/• 


ST.  ELMO. 


ST.  ELMO 


BY 


AUGUSTA  J. ,  EVANS 

Author  of  "Beulah," 
Macaria"  "At  the  Mercy  of  Tiberius" 
"Infelice"  Etc.,  Etc. 


"Ah  !  the  true  rule  is — a  true  wife  in  her  husband's  house 
is  his  servant ;  it  is  in  his  heart  that  she  is  queen.  Whatever 
of  the  best  he  can  conceive,  it  is  her  part  to  be ;  whatever  of 
the  highest  he  can  hope,  it  is  hers  to  promise  ;  all  that  is  dark 
in  him  she  must  purge  into  purity;  all  that  is  failing  in  him 
she  must  strengthen  into  truth  ;  from  her,  through  all  the 
world's  clamor,  he  must  win  his  praise ;  in  her,  through  all 
the  world's  warfare,  he  must  find  his  peace." — JOHN  RUSKIN. 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP,   PUBLISHERS 
52   Duane   Street      .      .      .       New  York 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1866,  fcy 
G.  W.  CARLETON, 

In  th«  clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for 
District  of  New  York. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1894,  by 

MRS.  AUGUSTA  J.  EVANS  WILSON, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,* 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1896,  by 

G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO., 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington 

[ALL  RIGHTS  RBSBRVBD.) 

St.  Elm*. 


TO 
J.    C.    DERBY, 

IN  GRATEFUL  MEMORY  OF  MANY  YEARS  OF  KIND  AND  FAITHFUL  FRIENDSHIP, 
THESE    PAGES    ARE 

AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED. 


"Ah!  the  true  rule  is— a  true  wife  in  her  husband's  house  is  his 
servant;  it  is  in  his  heart  that  she  is  queen.  Whatever  of  the  best 
he  can  conceive,  it  is  her  part  to  be ;  whatever  of  the  highest  he  can 
hope,  it  is  hers  to  promise;  all  that  is  dark  in  him  she  must  purge 
into  purity;  all  that  is  failing  in  him  she  must  strengthen  into 
truth;  from  her,  through  all  the  world's  clamor,  he  must  win  his 
praise;  in  her,  through  all  the  world's  warfare,  he  must  find  his 
peace."— JOHN  RUSKIN. 


ST.  ELMO. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"HE  stood  and  measured  the  earth:  and  the  everlasting 
mountains  were  scattered,  the  perpetual  hills  did  bow." 

These  words  of  the  prophet  upon  Shigionoth  were  sung 
by  a  sweet,  happy,  childish  voice,  and  to  a  strange,  wild, 
anomalous  tune — solemn  as  the  Hebrew  chant  of  Deborah, 
and  fully  as  triumphant. 

A  slender  girl  of  twelve  years'  growth  steadied  a  pail  of 
water  on  her  head,  with  both  dimpled  arms  thrown  up,  in 
ancient  classic  Caryatides  attitude;  and,  pausing  a  moment 
beside  the  spring,  stood  fronting  the  great  golden  dawn — 
watching  for  the  first  level  ray  of  the  coming  sun,  and 
chanting  the  prayer  of  Habakkuk.  Behind  her  in  silent 
grandeur  towered  the  huge  outline  of  Lookout  Mountain, 
shrouded  at  summit  in  gray  mist;  while  centre  and  base 
showed  dense  masses  of  foliage,  dim  and  purplish  in  the 
distance — a  stern  cowled  monk  of  the  Cumberland  brother 
hood.  Low  hills  clustered  on  either  side,  but  immediately 
in  front  stretched  a  wooded  plain,  and  across  this  the  child 
looked  at  the  flushed  sky,  rapidly  brightening  into  fiery  and 
blinding  radiance.  Until  her  wild  song  waked  echoes  among 
the  far-off  rocks,  the  holy  hush  of  early  morning  had  rested 
like  a  benediction  upon  the  scene,  as  though  nature  laid  her 
broad  finger  over  her  great  lips,  and  \vaited  in  reverent 
silence  the  advent  of  the  sun.  Morning  among  the  moun 
tains  possessed  witchery  and  glories  which  filled  the  heart 
of  the  girl  with  adoration,  and  called  from  her  lips  rude  but 
exultant  anthems  of  praise.  The  young  face,  lifted  toward 
the  cloudless  east,  might  have  served  as  a  model  for  a  pic- 

[i] 


2  ST.  ELMO. 

tured  Syriac  priestess — one  of  Baalbec's  vestals,  ministering 
in  the  olden  time  in  that  wondrous  and  grand  temple  at 
Heliopolis. 

The  large  black  eyes  held  a  singular  fascination  in  their 
mild,  sparkling  depths,  now  full  of  tender,  loving  light  and 
childish  gladness;  and  the  flexible  red  lips  curled  in  lines  of 
orthodox  Greek  perfection,  showing  remarkable  versatility 
of  expression ;  while  the  broad,  full,  polished  forehead  with 
its  prominent,  swelling  brows,  could  not  fail  to  recall,  to 
even  casual  observers,  the  calm,  powerful  face  of  Lorenzo 
de'  Medicis,  which,  if  once  looked  on,  fastens  itself  upon 
heart  and  brain,  to  be  forgotten  no  more.  Her  hair,  black, 
straight,  waveless  as  an  Indian's,  hung  around  her  shoulders, 
and  glistened  as  the  water  from  the  dripping  bucket  trickled 
through  the  wreath  of  purple  morning-glories  and  scarlet 
cypress,  which  she  had  twined  about  her  head,  ere  lifting 
the  cedar  pail  to  its  resting-place.  She  wore  a  short-sleeved 
dress  of  yellow  striped  homespun,  which  fell  nearly  to  her 
ankles,  and  her  little  bare  feet  gleamed  pearly  white  on  the 
green  grass  and  rank  dewy  creepers  that  clustered  along  the 
margin  of  the  bubbling  spring.  Her  complexion  was  un 
usually  transparent,  and  early  exercise  and  mountain  air 
had  rouged  her  cheeks  till  they  matched  the  brilliant  hue  of 
her  scarlet  crown.  A  few  steps  in  advance  of  her  stood  a 
large,  fierce  yellow  dog,  with  black,  scowling  face,  and  ears 
cut  close  to  his  head ;  a  savage,  repulsive  creature,  who 
looked  as  if  he  rejoiced  in  an  opportunity  of  making  good 
his  name,  "Grip."  In  the  solemn  beauty  of  that  summer 
morning  the  girl  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  mission  upon 
which  she  came ;  but  as  she  loitered,  the  sun  flashed  up, 
kindling  diamond  fringes  on  every  dew-beaded  chestnut  leaf 
and  oak-bough,  and  silvering  the  misty  mantle  which  en 
veloped  Lookout.  A  moment  longer  that  pure-hearted  Ten 
nessee  child  stood  watching  the  gorgeous  spectacle,  drinking 
draughts  of  joy,  which  mingled  no  drop  of  sin  or  selfishness 
in  its  crystal  waves ;  for  she  had  grown  up  alone  with  na 
ture — utterly  ignorant  of  the  roar  and  strife,  the  burning 
hate  and  cunning  intrigue  of  the  great  world  of  men  and 
women,  where,  "like  an  Egyptian  pitcher  of  tamed  vipers, 
each  struggles  to  get  its  head  above  the  other."  To  her, 
earth  seemed  very  lovely;  life  stretched  before  her  like  the 


ST.  ELMO.  3 

sun's  path  in  that  clear  sky,  and,  as  free  from  care  or  fore 
boding  as  the  fair  June  day,  she  walked  on,  preceded  by  her 
dog — and  the  chant  burst  once  more  from  her  lips : 

"He  stood  and  measured  the  earth:  and  the  everlasting 
mountains  were  scattered,  the  perpetual  hills 

The  sudden,  almost  simultaneous  report  of  two  pistol- 
shots  rang  out  sharply  on  the  cool,  calm  air,  and  startled  the 
child  so  violently  that  she  sprang  forward  and  dropped  the 
bucket.  The  sound  of  voices  reached  her  from  the  thick 
wood  bordering  the  path,  and,  without  reflection,  she  fol 
lowed  the  dog,  who  bounded  oft"  toward  the  point  whence  it 
issued.  Upon  the  verge  of  the  forest  she  paused,  and, 
looking  down  a  dewy  green  glade  where  the  rising  sun 
darted  the  earliest  arrowy  rays,  beheld  a  spectacle  which 
burned  itself  indelibly  upon  her  memory.  A  group  of  five 
gentlemen  stood  beneath  the  dripping  chestnut  and  sweet- 
gum  arches  ;  one  leaned  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  two  were 
conversing  eagerly  in  undertones,  and  two  faced  each  other 
fifteen  paces  apart,  with  pistols  in  their  hands.  Ere  she 
could  comprehend  the  scene,  the  brief  conference  ended, 
the  seconds  resumed  their  places  to  witness  another  fire,  and 
like  the  peal  of  a  trumpet  echoed  the  words: 

"Fire !     One !— two  !— three !" 

The  flash  and  ringing  report  mingled  with  the  command 
and  one  of  the  principals  threw  up  his  arm  and  fell.  When 
with  horror  in  her  wide-strained  eyes  and  pallor  on  her 
lips,  the  child  staggered  to  the  spot,  and  looked  on  the  pros 
trate  form,  he  was  dead.  The  hazel  eyes  stared  blankly  at 
the  sky,  and  the  hue  of  life  and  exuberant  health  still 
glowed  on  the  full  cheek ;  but  the  ball  had  entered  the  heart, 
and  the  warm  blood,  bubbling  from  his  breast,  dripped  on 
the  glistening  grass.  The  surgeon  who  knelt  beside  him 
took  the  pistol  from  his  clenched  fingers,  and  gently  pressed 
the  lids  over  his  glazing  eyes.  Not  a  word  was  uttered,  but 
while  the  seconds  sadly  regarded  the  stiffening  form,  the 
surviving  principal  coolly  drew  out  a  cigar,  lighted  and 
placed  it  between  his  lips.  The  child's  eyes  had  wandered 
to  the  latter  from  the  pool  of  blood,  and  now  in  a  shudder 
ing  cry  she  broke  the  silence  : 

"Murderer!" 

The  party  looked  around  instantly,  and  for  the  first  time 


4  ST.  ELMO. 

perceived  her  standing  there  in  their  midst,  with  loathing 
and  horror  in  the  gaze  she  fixed  on  the  perpetrator  of  the 
awful  deed.  In  great  surprise  he  drew  back  a  step  or  two, 
and  asked  gruffly  : 

"Who  are  you?    What  business  have  you  here?" 

"Oh!  how  dared  you  murder  him?  Do  you  think  God 
will  forgive  you  on  the  gallows  ?" 

He  was  a  man  probably  twenty-seven  years  of  age — sin 
gularly  fair,  handsome,  and  hardened  in  iniquity,  but  he 
cowered  before  the  blanched  and  accusing  face  of  the  ap 
palled  child;  and  ere  a  reply  could  be  framed,  his  friend 
came  close  to  him. 

"Clinton,  you  had  better  be  off;  you  have  barely  time  to 
catch  the  Knoxville  train,  which  leaves  Chattanooga  in  half 
an  hour.  I  would  advise  you  to  make  a  long  stay  in  New 
York,  for  there  will  be  trouble  when  Dent's  brother  hears  of 
this  morning's  work." 

"Aye !  Take  my  word  for  that,  and  put  the  Atlantic  be 
tween  you  and  Dick  Dent,"  added  the  surgeon,  smiling 
grimly,  as  if  the  anticipation  of  retributive  justice  afforded 
him  pleasure. 

"I  will  simply  put  this  between  us,"  replied  the  homicide, 
fitting  his  pistol  to  the  palm  of  his  hand ;  and  as  he  did  so, 
a  heavy  antique  diamond  ring  flashed  on  his  little  finger. 

"Come,  Clinton,  delay  may  cause  you  more  trouble  than 
we  bargained  for,"  urged  his  second. 

Without  even  glancing  toward  the  body  of  his  antagonist, 
Clinton  scowled  at  the  child,  and,  turning  away,  was  soon 
out  of  sight. 

"Oh,  sir !  will  you  let  him  get  away  ?  will  you  let  him  go 
unpunished  ?" 

"He  cannot  be  punished,"  answered  the  surgeon,  looking 
at  her  with  mingled  curiosity  and  admiration. 

"I  thought  men  were  hung  for  murder." 

"Yes — but  this  is  not  murder." 

"Not  murder?    He  shot  him  dead!    What  is  it?" 

"He  killed  him  in  a  duel,  which  is  considered  quite  right 
and  altogether  proper." 

"A  duel?" 

She  had  never  heard  the  word  before,  and  pondered  an 
instant. 


ST.  ELMO.  5 

"To  take  a  man's  life  is  murder.  Is  there  no  law  to  punish 
'a  duel'?" 

"None  strong  enough  to  prohibit  the  practice.  It  is  re 
garded  as  the  only  method  of  honorable  satisfaction  open 
to  gentlemen." 

"Honorable  satisfaction?"  she  repeated — weighing  the 
new  phraseology  as  cautiously  and  fearfully  as  she  would 
have  handled  the  bloody  garments  of  the  victim. 

"What  is  your  name  ?"  asked  the  surgeon. 

"Edna  Earl." 

"Do  you  live  near  this  place?" 

"Yes,  sir,  very  near." 

"Is  your  father  at  home?" 

"I  have  no  father,  but  grandpa  has  not  gone  to  the  shop 
yet." 

"Will  you  show  me  the  way  to  the  house?" 

"Do  you  wish  to  carry  him  there?"  she  asked,  glancing 
at  the  corpse,  and  shuddering  violently. 

"Yes,  I  want  some  assistance  from  your  grandfather." 

"I  will  show  you  the  way,  sir." 

The  surgeon  spoke  hurriedly  to  the  two  remaining  gen 
tlemen,  and  followed  his  guide.  Slowly  she  retraced  her 
steps,  refilled  her  bucket  at  the  spring,  and  walked  on  before 
the  stranger.  But  the  glory  of  the  morning  had  passed 
away ;  a  bloody  mantle  hung  between  the  splendor  of  sum 
mer  sunshine  and  the  chilled  heart  of  the  awe-struck  girl. 
The  forehead  of  the  radiant,  holy  June  day  had  been  sud 
denly  red-branded  like  Cain,  to  be  henceforth  an  occasion 
of  hideous  reminiscences;  and  with  a  blanched  face  and 
trembling  limbs  the  child  followed  a  narrow,  beaten  path, 
which  soon  terminated  at  the  gate  of  a  rude,  unwhitewashed 
paling.  A  low,  comfortless  looking  three-roomed  house 
stood  within,  and  on  the  steps  sat  an  elderly  man,  smoking 
a  pipe,  and  busily  engaged  in  mending  a  bridle.  The  creak 
ing  of  the  gate  attracted  his  attention,  and  he  looked  up  won- 
deringly  at  the  advancing  stranger. 

"Oh,  grandpa!  there  is  a  murdered  man  lying  in  the 
grass,  under  the  chestnut  trees,  down  by  the  spring." 

"Why!  how  do  you  know  he  was  murdered?" 

"Good  morning,  sir.  Your  granddaughter  happened  to 
witness  a  very  unfortunate  and  distressing  affair.  A  duel 


6  ST.  ELMO. 

was  fought  at  sunrise,  in  the  edge  of  the  woods  yonder,  and 
the  challenged  party,  Mr.  Dent,  of  Georgia,  was  killed.  I 
came  to  ask  permission  to  bring  the  body  here,  until  ar 
rangements  can  be  made  for  its  interment;  and  also  to  beg 
your  assistance  in  obtaining  a  coffin." 

Edna  passed  on  to  the  kitchen,  and  as  she  deposited  the 
bucket  on  the  table,  a  tall,  muscular,  red-haired  woman, 
who  was  stooping  over  the  fire,  raised  her  flushed  face,  and 
exclaimed  angrily: 

"What  upon  earth  have  you  been  doing?  I  have  been  half 
way  to  the  spring  to  call  you,  and  hadn't  a  drop  of  water 
in  the  kitchen  to  make  coffee!  A  pretty  time  of  day  Aaron 
Hunt  will  get  his  breakfast!  What  do  you  mean  by  such 
idleness  ?" 

She  advanced  with  threatening  mien  and  gesture,  but 
stopped  suddenly. 

"Edna,  what  ails  you?  Have  you  got  an  ague?  You  are 
as  white  as  that  pan  of  flour.  Are  you  scared  or  sick?" 

"There  was  a  man  killed  this  morning,  and  the  body  will 
be  brought  here  directly.  If  you  want  to  hear  about  it,  you 
had  better  go  out  on  the  porch.  One  of  the  gentlemen  is 
talking  to  grandpa." 

Stunned  by  what  she  had  seen,  and  indisposed  to  narrate 
the  horrid  details,  the  girl  went  to  her  own  room,  and  seat 
ing  herself  in  the  window,  tried  to  collect  her  thoughts. 
She  was  tempted  to  believe  the  whole  affair  a  hideous  dream, 
which  would  pass  away  with  vigorous  rubbing  of  her  eyes ; 
but  the  crushed  purple  and  scarlet  flowers  she  took  from  her 
forehead,  her  dripping  hair  and  damp  feet  assured  her  of 
the  vivid  reality  of  the  vision.  Every  fibre  of  her  frame  had 
received  a  terrible  shock,  and  when  noisy,  bustling  Mrs. 
Hunt  ran  from  room  to  room,  ejaculating  her  astonishment, 
and  calling  on  the  child  to  assist  in  putting  the  house  in 
order,  the  latter  obeyed  silently,  mechanically,  as  if  in  a 
state  of  somnambulism. 

Mr.  Dent's  body  was  brought  up  on  a  rude  litter  of  boards, 
and  temporarily  placed  on  Edna's  bed,  and  toward  evening 
when  a  coffin  arrived  from  Chattanooga,  the  remains  were 
removed,  and  the  coffin  rested  on  two  chairs  in  the  middle 
of  the  same  room.  The  surgeon  insisted  upon  an  immediate 
interment  near  the  scene  of  combat ;  but  the  gentleman  who 


ST.  ELMO.  7 

had  officiated  as  second  for  the  deceased  expressed  his  deter 
mination  to  carry  the  unfortunate  man's  body  back  to  his 
home  and  family,  and  the  earliest  train  on  the  following  day 
was  appointed  as  the  time  for  their  departure.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  Edna  cautiously  opened  the  door  of  the  room 
which  she  had  hitherto  avoided,  and  with  her  apron  full  of 
lilies,  white  poppies  and  sprigs  of  rosemary,  approached  the 
coffin,  and  looked  at  the  rigid  sleeper.  Judging  from  his  ap 
pearance,  not  more  than  thirty  years  had  gone  over  his  hand 
some  head ;  his  placid  features  were  unusually  regular,  and 
a  soft,  silky  brown  beard  fell  upon  his  pulseless  breast. 
Fearful  lest  she  should  touch  the  icy  form,  the  girl  timidly 
strewed  her  flowers  in  the  coffin,  and  tears  gathered  and 
dropped  with  the  blossoms,  as  she  noticed  a  plain  gold  ring 
on  the  little  ringer,  and  wondered  if  he  were  married — if  his 
death  would  leave  wailing  orphans  in  his  home,  and  a 
broken-hearted  widow  at  the  desolate  hearthstone.  Ab 
sorbed  in  her  melancholy  task,  she  heard  neither  the  sound 
of  strange  voices  in  the  passage,  nor  the  faint  creak  of  the 
door  as  it  swung  back  on  its  rusty  hinges;  but  a  shrill 
scream,  a  wild,  despairing  shriek  terrified  her,  and  her  heart 
seemed  to  stand  still  as  she  bounded  away  from  the  side  of 
the  coffin.  The  light  of  the  setting  sun  streamed  through 
the  window,  and  over  the  white,  convulsed  face  of  a  feeble 
but  beautiful  woman,  who  was  supported  on  the  threshold 
by  a  venerable,  gray-haired  man,  down  whose  furrowed 
cheeks  tears  coursed  rapidly.  Struggling  to  free  herself 
from  his  restraining  grasp,  the  stranger  tottered  into  the 
middle  of  the  room. 

"O  Harry !  My  husband !  my  husband  !"  She  threw  up 
her  wasted  arms,  and  fell  forward  senseless  on  the  corpse. 

They  bore  her  into  the  adjoining  apartment,  where  the 
surgeon  administered  the  usual  restoratives,  and  though 
finally  the  pulses  stirred  and  throbbed  feebly,  no  symptom 
of  returning  consciousness  greeted  the  anxious  friends  who 
bent  over  her.  Hour  after  hour  passed,  during  which  she 
lay  as  motionless  as  her  husband's  body,  and  at  length  the 
physician  sighed,  and  pressing  his  fingers  to  his  eyes,  said 
sorrowfully  to  the  grief-stricken  old  man  beside  her:  "It 
is  paralysis,  Mr.  Dent,  and  there  is  no  hope.  She  may 
linger  twelve  or  twenty-four  hours,  but  her  sorrows  are 


8  ST.  ELMO. 

ended ;  she  and  Harry  will  soon  be  reunited.  Knowing  her 
constitution,  I  feared  as  much.  You  should  not  have  suf 
fered  her  to  come;  you  might  have  known  that  the  shock 
would  kill  her.  For  this  reason  I  wished  his  body  buried 
here." 

"I  could  not  restrain  her.  Some  meddling  gossip  told 
her  that  my  poor  boy  had  gone  to  fight  a  duel,  and  she  rose 
from  her  bed  and  started  to  the  railroad  depot.  I  pleaded, 
I  reasoned  with  her  that  she  could  not  bear  the  journey, 
but  I  might  as  well  have  talked  to  the  winds.  I  never 
knew  her  obstinate  before,  but  she  seemed  to  have  a  pre 
sentiment  of  the  truth.  God  pity  her  two  sweet  babes!" 

The  old  man  bowed  his  head  upon  her  pillow,  and  sobbed 
aloud. 

Throughout  the  night  Edna  crouched  beside  the  bed, 
watching  the  wan  but  lovely  face  of  the  young  widow,  and 
tenderly  chafing  the  numb,  fair  hands  which  lay  so  motion.- 
less  on  the  coverlet.  Children  are  always  sanguine,  because 
of  their  ignorance  of  the  stern,  inexorable  realities  of  the 
untried  future,  and  Edna  could  not  believe  that  death  would 
snatch  from  the  world  one  so  beautiful  and  so  necessary  to 
her  prattling,  fatherless  infants.  But  morning  showed  no 
encouraging  symptoms,  the  stupor  was  unbroken,  and  at 
noon  the  wife's  spirit  passed  gently  to  the  everlasting  re 
union. 

Before  sunrise  on  the  ensuing  day,  a  sad  group  clustered 
once  more  under  the  dripping  chestnuts,  and  where  a  pool 
of  blood  had  dyed  the  sod,  a  wide  grave  yawned.  The 
coffins  were  lowered,  the  bodies  of  Henry  and  Helen  Dent 
rested  side  by  side,  and,  as  the  mound  rose  slowly  above 
them,  the  solemn  silence  was  broken  by  the  faltering  voice 
of  the  surgeon,  who  read  the  burial  service. 

"Man,  that  is  born  of  a  woman,  hath  but  a  short  time  to 
live,  and  is  full  of  misery.  He  cometh  up,  and  is  cut  down, 
like  a  flower ;  he  fleeth  as  it  were  a  shadow,  and  never  con- 
tinueth  in  one  stay.  Yet,  O  Lord  God  most  holy,  O  Lord 
most  mighty,  O  holy  and  most  merciful  Saviour,  deliver  us 
not  into  the  pains  of  eternal  death!" 

The  melancholy  rite  ended,  the  party  dispersed,  the 
strangers  took  their  departure  for  their  distant  homes,  and 
quiet  reigned  once  more  in  the  small,  dark  cottage.  But 


ST.  ELMO.  9 

days  and  weeks  brought  to  Edna  no  oblivion  of  the  tragic 
events  which  constituted  the  first  great  epoch  of  her  monot 
onous  life.  A  nervous  restlessness  took  possession  of  her, 
she  refused  to  occupy  her  old  room,  and  insisted  upon  sleep 
ing  on  a  pallet  at  the  foot  of  her  grandfather's  bed.  She 
forsook  her  whilom  haunts  about  the  spring  and  forest,  and 
started  up  in  terror  at  every  sudden  sound ;  while  from  each 
opening  between  the  chestnut  trees  the  hazel  eyes  of  the 
dead  man,  and  the  wan,  thin  face  of  the  golden-haired  wife, 
looked  out  beseechingly  at  her.  Frequently,  in  the  warm 
light  of  day,  ere  shadows  stalked  to  and  fro  in  the  thick 
woods,  she  would  steal,  with  an  apronful  of  wild  flowers, 
to  the  solitary  grave,  scatter  her  treasures  in  the  rank  grass 
that  waved  above  it,  and  hurry  away  with  hushed  breath 
and  quivering  limbs.  Summer  waned,  autumn  passed,  and 
winter  came,  but  the  girl  recovered  in  no  degree  from  the 
shock  which  had  cut  short  her  chant  of  praise  on  that 
bloody  June  day.  In  her  morning  visit  to  the  spring,  she 
had  stumbled  upon  a  monster  which  custom  had  adopted 
and  petted — which  the  passions  and  sinfulness  of  men  had 
adroitly  draped  and  fondled,  and  called  Honorable  Satisfac 
tion  ;  but  her  pure,  unperverted,  Ithuriel  nature  pierced  the 
conventional  mask,  recognized  the  loathsome  lineaments  of 
crime,  and  recoiled  in  horror  and  amazement,  wondering  at 
the  wickedness  of  her  race  and  the  forbearance  of  outraged 
Jehovah.  Innocent  childhood  had  for  the  first  time  stood 
face  to  face  with  Sin  and  Death,  and  could  not  forget  the 
vision. 

Edna  Earl  had  lost  both  her  parents  before  she  was  old 
enough  to  remember  either.  Her  mother  was  the  only 
daughter  of  Aaron  Hunt,  the  village  blacksmith,  and  her 
father,  who  was  an  intelligent,  promising  young  carpenter, 
accidentally  fell  from  the  roof  of  the  house  which  he  was 
shingling,  and  died  from  the  injuries  sustained.  Thus  Mr. 
Hunt,  who  had  been  a  widower  for  nearly  ten  years,  found 
himself  burdened  with  the  care  of  an  infant  only  six  months 
old.  His  daughter  had  never  left  him,  and  after  her  death 
the  loneliness  of  the  house  oppressed  him  painfully,  and  for 
the  sake  of  his  grandchild  he  resolved  to  marry  again.  The 
middle-aged  widow  whom  he  selected  was  a  kind-hearted 
and  generous  woman,  but  indolent,  ignorant,  and  exceed- 


10  ST.  ELMO. 

ingly  high-tempered ;  and  while  she  really  loved  the  litth 
orphan  committed  to  her  care,  she  contrived  to  alienate  her 
affection,  and  to  tighten  the  bonds  of  union  between  her 
husband  and  the  child.  Possessing  a  remarkably  amiable 
and  equable  disposition,  Edna  rarely  vexed  Mrs.  Hunt,  who 
gradually  left  her  more  and  more  to  the  indulgence  of  her 
own  views  and  caprices,  and  contented  herself  with  exact 
ing  a  certain  amount  of  daily  work,  after  the  accomplish 
ment  of  which  she  allowed  her  to  amuse  herself  as  childish 
whims  dictated.  There  chanced  to  be  no  children  of  her 
own  age  in  the  neighborhood,  consequently  she  grew  up 
without  companionship,  save  that  furnished  by  her  grand 
father,  who  was  dotingly  fond  of  her,  and  would  have  ut 
terly  spoiled  her,  had  not  her  temperament  fortunately  been 
one  not  easily  injured  by  unrestrained  liberty  of  action.  Be 
fore  she  was  able  to  walk,  he  would  take  her  to  the  forge, 
and  keep  her  for  hours  on  a  sheepskin  in  one  corner,  whence 
she  watched,  with  infantile  delight,  the  blast  of  the  furnace, 
and  the  shower  of  sparks  that  fell  from  the  anvil,  and  where 
she  often  slept,  lulled  by  the  monotonous  chorus  of  trip  and 
sledge.  As  she  grew  older,  the  mystery  of  bellows  and 
slack-tub  engaged  her  attention,  and  at  one  end  of  the  shop, 
on  a  pile  of  shavings,  she  collected  a  mass  of  curiously 
shaped  bits  of  iron  and  steel,  and  blocks  of  wood,  from 
which  a  miniature  shop  threatened  to  rise  in  rivalry;  and 
finally,  when  strong  enough  to  grasp  the  handles  of  the  bel 
lows,  her  greatest  pleasure  consisted  in  rendering  the  feeble 
assistance  which  her  grandfather  was  always  so  proud  to 
accept  at  her  hands.  Although  ignorant  and  uncultivated, 
Mr.  Hunt  was  a  man  of  warm,  tender  feelings,  and  rare 
nobility  of  soul.  He  regretted  the  absence  of  early  advan 
tages  which  poverty  had  denied  him ;  and  in  teaching  Edna 
to  read  and  to  write,  and  to  cipher,  he  never  failed  to  im 
press  upon  her  the  vast  superiority  which  a  thorough  educa 
tion  confers.  Whether  his  exhortations  first  kindled  her 
ambition,  or  whether  her  aspiration  for  knowledge  was  spon 
taneous  and  irrepressible,  he  knew  not;  but  she  manifested 
very  early  a  fondness  for  study  and  thirst  for  learning 
which  he  gratified  to  the  fullest  extent  of  his  limited  ability. 
The  blacksmith's  library  consisted  of  the  family  Bible,  Pil 
grim's  Progress,  a  copy  of  Irving's  Sermons  on  Parables, 


ST.  ELMO.  II 

Guy  Mannering,  a  few  tracts,  and  two  books  which  had  be 
longed  to  an  itinerant  minister  who  preached  occasionally  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  who,  having  died  rather  suddenly  at 
Mr.  Hunt's  house,  left  the  volumes  in  his  saddle-bags,  which 
were  never  claimed  by  his  family,  residing  in  a  distant  State. 
Those  books  were  Plutarch's  Lives  and  a  worn  school  copy 
of  Anthon's  Classical  Dictionary;  and  to  Edna  they  proved 
a  literary  Ophir  of  inestimable  value  and  exhaustless  inter 
est.  Plutarch  especially  was  a  Pisgah  of  letters,  whence  the 
vast  domain  of  learning,  the  Canaan  of  human  wisdom, 
stretched  alluringly  before  her;  and  as  often  as  she  climbed 
this  height,  and  viewed  the  wondrous  scene  beyond,  it 
seemed,  indeed, 

"an  arch  where  through 

Gleams  that  untraveled  world,  whose  margin  fades 
Forever  and  forever  when  we  move." 

In  after  years  she  sometimes  questioned  if  this  mount  of 
observation  was  also  that  of  temptation,  to  which  ambition 
had  led  her  spirit,  and  there  bargained  for  and  bought  her 
future.  Love  of  nature,  love  of  books,  an  earnest  piety  and 
deep  religious  enthusiasm  were  the  characteristics  of  a 
noble  young  soul,  left  to  stray  through  the  devious,  check 
ered  paths  of  life  without  other  guidance  than  that  which 
she  received  from  communion  with  Greek  sages  and  Hebrew 
prophets.  An  utter  stranger  to  fashionable  conventionality 
and  latitudinarian  ethics,  it  was  no  marvel  that  the  child 
stared  and  shivered  when  she  saw  the  laws  of  God  vetoed, 
and  was  blandly  introduced  to  murder  as  Honorable  Satis 
faction. 


CHAPTER  II. 

NEARLY  a  mile  from  the  small,  straggling  village  of  Chat 
tanooga  stood  Aaron  Hunt's  shop,  shaded  by  a  grove  of 
oak  and  chestnut  trees,  which  grew  upon  the  knoll,  where 
two  roads  intersected.  Like  the  majority  of  blacksmith's 
shops  at  country  cross-roads,  it  was  a  low,  narrow  shed, 
filled  with  dust  and  rubbish,  with  old  wheels  and  new  single 
trees,  broken  plows  and  dilapidated  wagons  awaiting  repairs, 
and  at  the  rear  of  the  shop  stood  a  smaller  shed,  where  an 
old  gray  horse  quietly  ate  his  corn  and  fodder,  waiting  to 
carry  the  master  to  his  home,  two  miles  distant,  as  soon  as 
the  sun  had  set  beyond  the  neighboring  mountain.  Early  in 
winter,  having  an  unusual  amount  of  work  on  hand,  Mr. 
Hunt  hurried  away  from  home  one  morning,  neglecting  to 
take  the  bucket  which  contained  his  dinner,  and  Edna  was 
sent  to  repair  the  oversight.  Accustomed  to  ramble  about 
the  woods  without  companionship,  she  walked  leisurely 
along  the  rocky  road,  swinging  the  tin  bucket  in  one  hand, 
and  pausing  now  and  then  to  watch  the  shy  red-birds  that 
flitted  like  flame-jets  in  and  out  of  the  trees  as  she  passed. 
The  unbroken  repose  of  earth  and  sky,  the  cold,  still  atmos 
phere  and  peaceful  sunshine,  touched  her  heart  with  a  sense 
of  quiet  but  pure  happiness,  and  half  unconsciously  she  be 
gan  a  hymn  which  her  grandfather  often  sang  over  his 
anvil : 

"  Lord,   in   the   morning   Thou   shalt  hear 

My  voice  ascending  high ; 
To  Thee  will  I  direct  my  prayer, 

To  Thee  lift  up  mine  eye." 

Ere  the  first  verse  was  ended,  the  clatter  of  a  horse's  hoofs 
hushed  her  song,  and  she  glanced  up  as  a  harsh  voice  asked 
impatiently : 

"Are  you  stone  deaf?  I  say,  is  there  a  blacksmith's  shop 
near?" 

The  rider  reined  in  his  horse,  a  spirited,  beautiful  animal, 
and  waited  for  an  answer. 

[12] 


ST.  ELMO.  13 

"Yes,  sir.  There  is  a  shop  about  half  a  mile  ahead,  on  the 
right  hand  side,  where  the  road  forks." 

He  just  touched  his  hat  with  the  end  of  his  gloved  fingers 
and  galloped  on.  When  Edna  reached  the  shop  she  saw  her 
grandfather  examining  the  horse's  shoes,  while  the  stranger 
walked  up  and  down  the  road  before  the  forge.  He  was  a 
very  tall,  strong  man,  with  a  gray  shawl  thrown  over  one 
shoulder,  and  a  black  fur  hat  drawn  so  far  over  his  face  that 
only  the  lower  portion  was  visible;  and  this,  swarthy  and 
harsh,  left  a  most  disagreeable  impression  on  the  child's 
mind  as  she  passed  him  and  went  up  to  the  spot  where  Mr. 
Hunt  was  at  work.  Putting  the  bucket  behind  her,  she 
stooped,  kissed  him  on  his  furrowed  forehead,  and  said : 

"Grandpa,  guess  what  brought  me  to  see  you  to-day?" 

"I  forgot  my  dinner,  and  you  have  trudged  over  here  to 
bring  it.  Ain't  I  right,  Pearl?  Stand  back,  honey,  or  this 
Satan  of  a  horse  may  kick  your  brains  out.  I  can  hardly 
manage  him." 

Here  the  stranger  uttered  an  oath,  and  called  out,  "How 
much  longer  do  you  intend  to  keep  me  waiting?" 

"No  longer,  sir,  than  I  can  help,  as  I  like  the  company  of 
polite  people." 

"Oh,  grandpa!"  whispered  Edna,  deprecatingly,  as  she 
saw  the  traveller  come  rapidly  forward  and  throw  his  shawl 
down  on  the  grass.  Mr.  Hunt  pushed  back  his  old  battered 
woolen  hat,  and  looked  steadily  at  the  master  of  the  horse — 
saying  gravely  and  resolutely : 

"I'll  finish  the  job  as  soon  as  I  can,  and  that  is  as  much 
as  any  reasonable  man  would  ask.  Now,  sir,  if  that  doesn't 
suit  you,  you  can  take  your  horse  and  put  out,  and  swear  at 
somebody  else,  for  I  won't  stand  it." 

"It  is  a  cursed  nuisance  to  be  detained  here  for  such  a 
trifle  as  one  shoe,  and  you  might  hurry  yourself." 

"Your  horse  is  very  restless  and  vicious,  and  I  could  shoe 
two  gentle  ones  while  I  am  trying  to  quiet  him." 

The  man  muttered  something  indistinctly,  and  laying  his 
hand  heavily  on  the  horse's  mane,  said  very  sternly  a  few 
words,  which  were  utterly  unintelligible  to  his  human  lis 
teners,  though  they  certainly  exerted  a  magical  influence 
over  the  fiery  creature,  who,  savage  as  the  pampered  pets  of 
Diomedes,  soon  stood  tranquil  and  contented,  rubbing  his 


I4  ST.  ELMO. 

head  against  his  master's  shoulder.  Repelled  by  the  rude 
harshness  of  this  man,  Edna  walked  into  the  shop,  and 
watched  the  silent  group  outside,  until  the  work  was  finished 
and  Mr.  Hunt  threw  down  his  tools  and  wiped  his  face. 

"What  do  I  owe  you  ?"  said  the  impatient  rider,  springing 
to  his  saddle,  and  putting  his  hand  into  his  vest  pocket. 

"I  charge  nothing  for  'such  trifles'  as  that." 

"But  I  am  in  the  habit  of  paying  for  my  work." 

"It  is  not  worth  talking  about.    Good  day,  sir." 

Mr.  Hunt  turned  and  walked  into  his  shop. 

"There  is  a  dollar,  it  is  the  only  small  change  I  have." 
He  rode  up  to  the  door  of  the  shed,  threw  the  small  gold 
coin  toward  the  blacksmith,  and  was  riding  rapidly  away, 
when  Edna  darted  after  him,  exclaiming,  "Stop,  sir!  you 
have  left  your  shawl!" 

He  turned  in  the  saddle,  and  even  under  the  screen  of  her 
calico  bonnet  she  felt  the  fiery  gleam  of  his  eyes,  as  he 
stooped  to  take  the  shawl  from  her  hand.  Once  more  his 
fingers  touched  his  hat,  he  bowed  and  said  hastily : 

"I  thank  you,  child."  Then  spurring  his  horse,  he  was 
out  of  sight  in  a  moment. 

"He  is  a  rude,  blasphemous,  wicked  man,"  said  Mr.  Hunt 
as  Edna  reentered  the  shop,  and  picked  up  the  coin,  which 
lay  glistening  amid  the  cinders  around  the  anvil. 

"Why  do  you  think  him  wicked?" 

"No  good  man  swears  as  he  did,  before  you  came;  and 
didn't  you  notice  the  vicious,  wicked  expression  of  his 
eyes  ?" 

"No,  sir,  I  did  not  see  much  of  his  face,  he  never  looked 
at  me  but  once.  I  should  not  like  to  meet  him  again ;  I  am 
afraid  of  him." 

"Never  fear,  Pearl,  he  is  a  stranger  here,  and  there's  lit 
tle  chance  of  your  ever  setting  your  eyes  on  his  ugly,  savage 
face  again.  Keep  the  money,  dear;  I  won't  have  it  after 
all  the  airs  he  put  on.  If,  instead  of  shoeing  his  wild  brute, 
I  had  knocked  the  fellow  down  for  his  insolence  in  cursing 
me,  it  would  have  served  him  right.  Politeness  is  a  cheap 
thing;  and  a  poor  man,  if  he  behaves  himself,  and  does  his 
work  well,  is  as  much  entitled  to  it  as  the  President." 

"I  will  give  the  dollar  to  grandma,  to  buy  a  new  coffee 
pot  ;  for  she  said  to-day  the  old  one  was  burnt  out,  and  she 


ST.  ELMO.  15 

could  not  use  it  any  longer.  But  what  is  that  yonder  on  the 
grass?  That  man  left  something  after  all." 

She  picked  up  from  the  spot  where  he  had  thrown  his 
shawl  a  handsome  morocco-bound  pocket  copy  of  Dante, 
and  opening  it  to  discover  the  name  of  the  owner,  she  saw 
written  on  the  fly-leaf  in  a  bold  and  beautiful  hand,  "S.  E. 
M.,  Boboli  Gardens,  Florence.  Lasciate  ogni  spcranza  voi 
ch'  entrate." 

"What  does  this  mean,  grandpa  ?" 

She  held  up  the  book  and  pointed  out  the  words  of  the 
dread  inscription. 

"Indeed,  Pearl,  how  should  I  know?  It  is  Greek,  or 
Latin,  or  Dutch,  like  the  other  outlandish  gibberish  he  talked 
to  that  devilish  horse.  He  must  have  spent  his  life  among 
the  heathens,  to  judge  from  his  talk ;  for  he  has  neither  man 
ner  nor  religion.  Honey,  better  put  the  book  there  in  the 
furnace ;  it  is  not  fit  for  your  eyes." 

"He  may  come  back  for  it  if  he  misses  it  pretty  soon." 

"Not  he.  One  might  almost  believe  that  he  was  running 
from  the  law.  He  would  not  turn  back  for  it  if  it  was 
bound  in  gold  instead  of  leather.  It  is  no  account,  I'll  war 
rant,  or  he  would  not  have  been  reading  it,  the  ill-mannered 
heathen !" 

Weeks  passed,  and  as  the  owner  was  not  heard  of  again, 
Edna  felt  that  she  might  justly  claim  as  her  own  this  most 
marvellous  of  books,  which,  though  beyond  her  comprehen 
sion,  furnished  a  source  of  endless  wonder  and  delight.  The 
copy  was  Gary's  translation,  with  illustrations  designed  by 
Flaxman;  and  many  of  the  grand,  gloomy  passages  were 
underlined  by  pencil  and  annotated  in  the  unknown  tongue, 
which  so  completely  baffled  her  curiosity.  Night  and  day 
she  pored  over  this  new  treasure;  sometimes  dreaming  of 
the  hideous  faces  that  scowled  at  her  from  the  solemn, 
mournful  pages;  and  anon,  when  startled  from  sleep  by 
these  awful  visions,  she  would  soothe  herself  to  rest  by 
murmuring  the  metrical  version  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  con 
tained  in  the  "Purgatory."  Most  emphatically  did  Mrs. 
Hunt  disapprove  of  the  studious  and  contemplative  habits  of 
the  ambitious  child,  who  she  averred  was  indulging  dreams 
and  aspirations  far  above  her  station  in  life,  and  well  calcu 
lated  to  dissatisfy  her  with  her  humble,  unpretending  home 


16  ST.  ELMO. 

and  uninviting  future.  Education,  she  contended,  was  use 
less  to  poor  people,  who  could  not  feed  and  clothe  themselves 
with  "book  learning;"  and  experience  had  taught  her  that 
those  who  lounged  about  with  books  in  their  hands  generally 
came  to  want,  and  invariably  to  harm.  It  was  in  vain  that 
she  endeavored  to  convince  her  husband  of  the  impropriety 
of  permitting  the  girl  to  spend  so  much  time  over  her  books ; 
he  finally  _put  the  matter  at  rest  by  declaring  that,  in  his 
opinion,  Edna  was  a  remarkable  child ;  and  if  well  educated, 
might  even  rise  to  the  position  of  teacher  for  the  neighbor 
hood,  which  would  confer  most  honorable  distinction  upon 
the  family.  Laying  his  brawny  hand  fondly  on  her  head, 
he  said,  tenderly: 

"Let  her  alone,  wife!  let  her  alone!  You  will  make  us 
proud  of  you,  won't  you,  little  Pearl,  when  you  are  smart 
enough  to  teach  a  school?  I  shall  be  too  old  to  work  by 
that  time,  and  you  will  take  care  of  me,  won't  you,  my  little 
mocking-bird  ?" 

"Oh,  Grandy ;  that  I  will.  But  do  you  really  think  I  ever 
shall  have  sense  enough  to  be  a  teacher  ?  You  know  I  ought 
to  learn  everything,  and  I  have  so  few  books." 

"To  be  sure  you  will.  Remember  there  is  always  a  way 
where  there's  a  will.  When  I  pay  off  the  debt  I  owe  Peter 
Wood,  I  will  see  what  we  can  do  about  some  new  books. 
Put  on  your  shawl  now,  Pearl,  and  hunt  up  old  Brindle,  it 
is  milking  time,  and  she  is  not  in  sight." 

"Grandpa,  are  you  sure  you  feel  better  this  evening?" 
She  plunged  her  fingers  in  his  thick  white  hair,  and  rubbed 
her  round,  rosy  cheek  softly  against  his. 

"Oh !  yes,  I  am  better.  Hurry  back,  Pearl,  I  want  you  to 
read  to  me." 

It  was  a  bright  day  in  January,  and  the  old  man  sat  in  a 
large  rocking-chair  on  the  porch,  smoking  his  pipe,  and 
sunning  himself  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sinking  sun.  He  had 
complained  all  day  of  not  feeling  well,  and  failed  to  go  to 
his  work  as  usual ;  and  now,  as  his  grandchild  tied  her  pink 
calico  bonnet  under  her  chin,  and  wrapped  herself  in  her 
faded  plaid  shawl,  he  watched  her  with  a  tender,  loving  light 
in  his  keen  gray  eyes.  She  kissed  him,  buttoned  his  shirt 
collar,  which  had  become  unfastened,  drew  his  homespun 
coat  closer  to  his  throat,  and  springing  down  the  steps 


ST.  ELMO.  17 

bounded  away  in  search  of  the  cow,  who  often  strayed  so 
far  off  that  she  was  dispatched  to  drive  her  home.  In  the 
grand,  peaceful,  solemn  woods,  through  which  the  wintry 
wind  now  sighed  in  a  soothing  monotone,  the  child's  spirit 
reached  an  exaltation  which,  had  she  lived  two  thousand 
years  earlier,  and  roamed  amid  the  vales  and  fastnesses  of 
classic  Arcadia,  would  have  vented  itself  in  dithyrambics  to 
the  great  "Lord  of  the  Hyle,"  the  Greek  "All,"  the  horned 
and  hoofed  god,  Pan.  In  every  age,  and  among  all  people 
—from  the  Parsee  devotees  and  the  Gosains  of  India  to  the 
Pantheism  of  Bruno,  Spinoza,  and  New  England's  "II- 
luminati" — nature  has  been  apotheosized;  and  the  heart  of 
the  blacksmith's  untutored  darling  stirred  with  the  same 
emotions  of  awe  and  adoration  which  thrilled  the  worshipers 
of  Hertha,  when  the  veiled  chariot  stood  in  Helgeland,  and 
which  made  the  groves  and  grottoes  of  Phrygia  sacred  to 
Dindymene.  Edna  loved  trees  and  flowers,  stars  and  clouds, 
with  a  warm,  clinging  affection,  as  she  loved  those  of  her 
own  race;  and  that  solace  and  amusement  which  most 
children  find  in  the  society  of  children  and  the  sports  of 
childhood  this  girl  derived  from  the  solitude  and  serenity  of 
nature.  To  her  woods  and  fields  were  indeed  vocal,  and 
every  flitting  bird  and  gurgling  brook,  every  passing  cloud 
and  whispering  breeze,  brought  messages  of  God's  eternal 
love  and  wisdom,  and  drew  her  tender,  yearning  heart  more 
closely  to  Jehovah,  the  Lord  God  Omnipotent.  To-day,  in 
the  boundless  reverence  and  religious  enthusiasm  of  her 
character,  she  directed  her  steps  to  a  large  spreading  oak, 
now  leafless,  where  in  summer  she  often  came  to  read  and 
pray ;  and  here  falling  on  her  knees  she  thanked  God  for  the 
blessings  showered  upon  her.  Entirely  free  from  discon 
tent  and  querulousness,  she  was  thoroughly  happy  in  her 
poor  humble  home,  and  over  all,  like  a  consecration,  shone 
the  devoted  love  for  her  grandfather,  which  more  than  com 
pensated  for  any  want  of  which  she  might  otherwise  have 
been  conscious.  Accustomed  always  to  ask  special  favor  for 
him,  his  name  now  passed  her  lips  in  earnest  supplication, 
and  she  fervently  thanked  the  Father  that  his  threatened 
illness  had  been  arrested  without  serious  consequences.  The 
sun  had  gone  down  when  she  rose  and  hurried  on  in  search 
of  the  cow.  The  shadows  of  a  winter  evening  gathered  in 


18  ST.  ELMO. 

the  forest  and  climbed  like  trooping  spirits  up  the  rocky 
mountain  side,  and  as  she  plunged  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  woods,  the  child  began  a  wild  cattle  call  that  she  was 
wont  to  use  on  such  occasions.  The  echoes  rang  out  a 
weird  Brocken  chorus,  and  at  last,  when  she  was  growing 
impatient  of  the  fruitless  search,  she  paused  to  listen,  and 
heard  the  welcome  sound  of  the  familiar  lowing,  by  which 
the  old  cow  recognized  her  summons.  Following  the  sound, 
Edna  soon  saw  the  missing  favorite  coming  slowly  toward 
her,  and  ere  many  moments  both  were  running  homeward. 
As  she  approached  the  house,  driving  Brindle  before  her, 
and  merrily  singing  her  rude  Ranz  des  vaches,  the  moon 
rose  full  and  round,  and  threw  a  flood  of  light  over  the 
porch  where  the  blacksmith  still  sat.  Edna  took  off  her 
bonnet  and  waved  it  at  him,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  notice 
the  signal,  and  driving  the  cow  into  the  yard,  she  called  out 
as  she  latched  the  gate : 

"Grandy,  dear,  why  don't  you  go  in  to  the  fire?  Are  you 
waiting  for  me,  out  here  in  the  cold?  I  think  Brindle  cer 
tainly  must  have  been  cropping  grass  around  the  old  walls 
of  Jericho,  as  that  is  the  farthest  off  of  any  place  I  know. 
If  she  is  half  as  tired  and  hungry  as  I  am,  she  ought  to  be 
glad  to  get  home."  He  did  not  answer,  and  running  up  the 
steps  she  thought  he  had  fallen  asleep.  The  old  woolen  hat 
shaded  his  face,  but  when  she  crept  on  tiptoe  to  the  chair, 
stooped,  put  her  arms  around  him,  and  kissed  his  wrinkled 
cheek,  she  started  back  in  terror.  The  eyes  stared  at  the 
moon,  the  stiff  fingers  clutched  the  pipe  from  which  the 
ashes  had  not  been  shaken,  and  the  face  was  cold  and  rigid. 
Aaron  Hunt  had  indeed  fallen  asleep,  to  wake  no  more  amid 
the  storms  and  woes  and  tears  of  time. 

Edna  fell  on  her  knees  and  grasped  the  icy  hands. 
"Grandpa !  wake  up !  Oh,  grandpa !  speak  to  me,  your  little 
Pearl!  Wake  up!  dear  Grandy!  I  have  come  back!  My 
grandpa !  Oh !  - 

A  wild,  despairing  cry  rent  the  still  evening  air,  and 
shrieked  dismally  back  from  the  distant  hills  and  the  gray, 
ghostly  mountain — and  the  child  fell  on  her  face  at  the  dead 
man's  feet. 

Throughout  that  dreary  night  of  agony,  Edna  lay  on  the 
bed  where  her  grandfather's  body  had  been  placed,  holding 


ST.  ELMO.  19 

one  of  the  stiffened  hands  folded  in  both  hers,  and  pressed 
against  her  lips.  She  neither  wept  nor  moaned,  the  shock 
was  too  terrible  to  admit  of  noisy  grief;  but  completely 
stunned,  she  lay  mute  and  desolate. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  could  not  pray;  she 
wanted  to  turn  away  from  the  thought  of  God  and  heaven, 
for  it  seemed  that  she  had  nothing  left  to  pray  for.  That 
silver-haired,  wrinkled  old  man  was  the  only  father  she  had 
ever  known ;  he  had  cradled  her  in  his  sinewy  arms,  and  slept 
clasping  her  to  his  heart;  had  taught  her  to  walk,  and  sur 
rounded  her  with  his  warm,  pitying  love,  making  a  home  of 
peace  and  blessedness  for  her  young  life.  Giving  him,  in 
return,  the  whole  wealth  of  her  affection,  he  had  become  the 
centre  of  all  her  hopes,  joys  and  aspirations ;  now  what  re 
mained?  Bitter,  rebellious  feelings  hardened  her  heart  when 
she  remembered  that  even  while  she  was  kneeling,  thanking 
God  for  his  preservation  from  illness,  he  had  already  passed 
away;  nay,  his  sanctified  spirit  probably  poised  its  wings 
close  to  the  Eternal  Throne,  and  listened  to  the  prayer  which 
she  sent  up  to  God  for  his  welfare  and  happiness  and  pro 
tection  while  on  earth.  The  souls  of  our  dead  need  not  the 
aid  of  Sandalphon  to  interpret  the  whispers  that  rise  tremu 
lously  from  the  world  of  sin  and  wrestling,  that  float  up 
among  the  stars,  through  the  gates  of  pearl,  down  the  golden 
streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem.  So  we  all  trust,  and  prate  of 
our  faith,  and  deceive  ourselves  with  the  fond  hope  that  we 
are  resigned  to  the  Heavenly  Will;  and  we  go  on  with  a 
show  of  Christian  reliance,  while  the  morning  sun  smiles  in 
gladness  and  plenty,  and  the  hymn  of  happy  days  and  the 
dear  voices  of  our  loved  ones  make  music  in  our  ears ;  and 
k>!  God  puts  us  in  the  crucible.  The  light  of  life — the  hope 
of  all  future  years  is  blotted  out;  clouds  of  de?pair  and  the 
grim  night  of  an  unbroken  and  unlifting  desolation  fall  like 
a  pall  on  heart  and  brain ;  we  dare  not  look  heavenward, 
dreading  another  blow  ;  our  anchor  drags,  we  drift  out  into  a 
hideous  Dead  Sea,  where  our  idol  has  gone  down  forever — 
and  boasted  faith  and  trust  and  patience  are  swept  like 
straws  from  our  grasp  in  the  tempest  of  woe ;  while  our 
human  love  cries  wolfishly  for  its  lost  darling.  Ah !  we  build 
grand  and  gloomy  mausoleums  for  our  precious  dead  hopes, 
but,  like  Artemisia,  we  refuse  to  sepulchre — we  devour  the 


20  ST.  ELMO. 

bitter  ashes  of  the  lost,  and  grimly  and  audaciously  challenge 
Jehovah  to  take  the  worthless,  mutilated  life  that  his  wisdom 
reserves  for  other  aims  and  future  toils.  Job's  wife  is  im 
mortal  and  ubiquitous,  haunting  the  sorrow-shrouded  cham 
ber  of  every  stricken  human  soul,  and  fiendishly  prompting 
the  bleeding,  crushed  spirit  to  "curse  God  and  die."  Edna 
had  never  contemplated  the  possibility  of  her  grandfather's 
death — it  was  a  horror  she  had  never  forced  herself  to 
front ;  and  now  that  he  was  cut  down  in  an  instant,  without 
even  the  mournful  consolation  of  parting  words  and  farewell 
kisses,  she  asked  herself  again  and  again :  "What  have  I 
done,  that  God  should  punish  me  so?  I  thought  I  was 
grateful,  I  thought  I  was  doing  my  duty ;  but  oh !  what 
dreadful  sin  have  I  committed,  to  deserve  this  awful  afflic 
tion?"  During  the  long,  ghostly  watches  of  that  winter 
night,  she  recalled  her  past  life,  gilded  by  the  old  man's  love, 
and  could  remember  no  happiness  with  which  he  was  not 
intimately  connected,  and  no  sorrow  that  his  hand  had  not 
soothed  and  lightened.  The  future  was  now  a  blank,  crossed 
by  no  projected  paths,  lit  with  no  ray  of  hope;  and  at  day 
light,  when  the  cold,  pale  morning  showed  the  stony  face  of 
the  corpse  at  her  side,  her  unnatural  composure  broke  up  in 
a  storm  of  passionate  woe,  and  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  al 
most  frantic  with  the  sense  of  her  loss : 

"All  alone !  nobody  to  love  me ;  nothing  to  look  forward 
to !  Oh.  grandpa !  did  you  hear  me  praying  for  you  yester 
day  ?  Dear  Grandy — my  own  dear  Grandy !  I  did  pray  for 
you  while  you  were  dying — here  alone !  Oh,  my  God !  what 
have  I  done,  that  you  should  take  him  away  from  me  ?  Was 
not  I  on  my  knees  when  he  died?  Oh !  what  will  become  of 
me  now  ?  Nobody  to  care  for  Edna  now !  Oh,  grandpa ! 
grandpa !  beg  Jesus  to  ask  God  to  take  me  too !"  And 
throwing  up  her  clasped  hands,  she  sank  back  insensible  on 
the  shrouded  form  of  the  dead. 

"  When  some  beloved  voice  that  was  to  you 
Both  sound  and  sweetness,  faileth  suddenly, 
And  silence  against  which  you  dare  not  cry, 
Aches  round  you  like  a  strong  disease  and  new — 
What  hope?  what  help?  what  music  will  undo 
That  silence  to  your  senses?    Not  friendship's  sigh, 
Not  reason's  subtle  count.     Nay,  none  of  these ! 
Speak  Thou,  availing  Christ !  and  fill  this  pause." 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  all  that  occurred  during  many  ensuing  weeks  Edna 
knew  little.  She  retained,  in  after  years,  only  a  vague,  con 
fused  remembrance  of  keen  anguish  and  utter  prostration, 
and  an  abiding  sense  of  irreparable  loss.  In  delirious  visions 
she  saw  her  grandfather  now  struggling  in  the  grasp  of 
Phlegyas,  and  now  writhing  in  the  fiery  tomb  of  Uberti,  with 
jets  of  flame  leaping  through  his  white  hair,  and  his 
shrunken  hands  stretched  appealingly  toward  her,  as  she  had 
seen  those  of  the  doomed  Ghibelline  leader,  in  the  hideous 
Dante  picture.  All  the  appalling  images  evoked  by  the 
sombre  and  embittered  imagination  of  the  gloomy  Tuscan 
had  seized  upon  her  fancy,  even  in  happy  hours,  and  were 
now  reproduced  by  her  disordered  brain  in  multitudinous 
and  aggravated  forms.  Her  wails  of  agony,  her  passionate 
prayers  to  God  to  release  the  beloved  spirit  from  the  tor 
tures  which  her  delirium  painted,  were  painful  beyond  ex 
pression  to  those  who  watched  her  ravings ;  and  it  was  with 
a  feeling  of  relief  that  they  finally  saw  her  sink  into  apathy 
— into  a  quiet  mental  stupor — from  which  nothing  seemed  to 
rouse  her.  She  did  not  remark  Mrs.  Hunt's  absence,  or  the 
presence  of  the  neighbors  at  her  bedside.  And  one  morning, 
when  she  was  wrapped  up  and  placed  by  the  fire,  Mrs.  Wood 
told  her  as  gently  as  possible  that  her  grandmother  had  died 
from  a  disease  which  was  ravaging  the  country  and  sup 
posed  to  be  cholera.  The  intelligence  produced  no  emotion ; 
she  merely  looked  up  an  instant,  glanced  mournfully  around 
the  dreary  room,  and,  shivering  slightly,  drooped  her  head 
again  on  her  hand.  Week  after  week  went  slowly  by,  and 
she  was  removed  to  Mrs.  Wood's  house,  but  no  improvement 
was  discernible,  and  the  belief  became  general  that  the 
child's  mind  had  sunk  into  hopeless  imbecility.  The  kind- 
hearted  miller  and  his  wife  endeavored  to  coax  her  out  of 
her  chair  by  the  chimney-corner,  but  she  crouched  there,  a 
wan,  mute  figure  of  woe,  pitiable  to  contemplate ;  asking  no 

[21] 


22  ST.  ELMO. 

questions,  causing  no  trouble,  receiving  no  consolation.  One 
bright  March  morning  she  sat,  as  usual,  with  her  face  bowed 
on  her  thin  hand,  and  her  vacant  gaze  fixed  on  the  blazing 
fire,  when,  through  the  open  window,  came  the  impatient 
lowing  of  a  cow.  Mrs.  Wood  saw  a  change  pass  swiftly 
over  the  girl's  face,  and  a  quiver  cross  the  lips  so  long 
frozen.  She  lifted  her  head,  rose,  and  followed  the  sound, 
and  soon  stood  at  the  side  of  Brindle,  who  now  furnished 
milk  for  the  miller's  family.  As  the  gentle  cow  recognized 
and  looked  at  her,  with  an  expression  almost  human  in  the 
mild,  liquid  eyes,  all  the  events  of  that  last  serene  evening 
swept  back  to  Edna's  deadened  memory,  and,  leaning  her 
head  on  Brindle's  horns,  she  shed  the  first  tears  that  had 
flowed  for  her  great  loss,  while  sobs,  thick  and  suffocating, 
shook  her  feeble,  emaciated  frame. 

"Bless  the  poor  little  outcast,  she  will  get  well  now.  That 
is  just  exactly  what  she  needs.  I  tell  you,  Peter,  one  good 
cry  like  that  is  worth  a  wagon-load  of  physic.  Don't  go 
near  her;  let  her  have  her  cry  out.  Poor  thing!  It  ain't 
often  you  see  a  child  love  her  granddaddy  as  she  loved 
Aaron  Hunt.  Poor  lamb!" 

Mrs.  Wood  wiped  her  own  eyes,  and  went  back  to  her 
weaving;  and  Edna  turned  away  from  the  mill  and  walked 
to  her  deserted  home,  while  the  tears  poured  ceaselessly  over 
her  white  cheeks.  As  she  approached  the  old  house  she  saw 
that  it  was  shut  up  and  neglected ;  but  when  she  opened  the 
gate,  Grip,  the  fierce  yellow  terror  of  the  whole  neighbor 
hood,  sprang  from  the  door-step,  where  he  kept  guard  as 
tirelessly  as  Maida,  and,  with  a  dismal  whine  of  welcome, 
leaped  up  and  put  his  paws  on  her  shoulders.  This  had  been 
the  blacksmith's  pet,  fed  by  his  hand,  chained  when  he  went 
to  the  shop,  and  released  at  his  return ;  and  grim  and  repul 
sively  ugly  though  he  was,  the  only  playmate  Edna  had  ever 
known ;  had  gamboled  around  her  cradle,  slept  with  her  on 
the  sheepskin,  and  frolicked  with  her  through  the  woods,  in 
many  a  long  search  for  Brindle.  He  alone  remained  of  all 
the  happy  past;  and  as  precious  memories  crowded  mourn 
fully  up,  she  sat  upon  the  steps  of  the  dreary  homestead, 
with  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  wept  bitterly.  After  an 
hour  she  left  the  house,  and,  followed  by  the  dog,  crossed 
the  woods  in  the  direction  of  the  neighborhood  graveyard. 


ST.  ELMO.  23 

In  order  to  reach  it  she  was  forced  to  pass  by  the  spring 
and  the  green  hillock  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dent  slept  side  by 
side,  but  no  nervous  terror  seized  her  now  as  formerly ;  the 
great  present  horror  swallowed  up  all  others,  and,  though 
she  trembled  from  physical  debility,  she  dragged  herself  on 
till  the  rude,  rough  paling  of  the  burying-ground  stood  be 
fore  her.  Oh,  dreary  desolation ;  thy  name  is  country  grave 
yard!  Here  no  polished  sculptured  stela  pointed  to  the 
Eternal  Rest  beyond ;  no  classic  marbles  told,  in  gilded  char 
acters,  the  virtues  of  the  dead ;  no  flowery- fringed  gravel- 
v/alks  wound  from  murmuring  waterfalls  and  rippling  foun 
tains  to  crystal  lakes,  where  trailing  willows  threw  their 
flickering  shadows  over  silver-dusted  lilies ;  no  spicy  perfume 
of  purple  heliotrope  and  starry  jasmine  burdened  the  silent 
air;  none  of  the  solemn  beauties  and  soothing  charms  of 
Greenwood  or  Mount  Auburn  wooed  the  mourner  from  her 
weight  of  woe.  Decaying  head-boards,  green  with  the 
lichen-fingered  touch  of  time,  leaned  over  neglected  mounds, 
where  last  year's  weeds  shivered  in  the  sighing  breeze,  and 
autumn  winds  and  winter  rains  had  drifted  a  brown  shroud 
of  shriveled  leaves;  while  here  and  there  meek-eyed  sheep 
lay  sunning  themselves  upon  the  trampled  graves,  and  the 
slow-measui  ed  sound  of  a  bell  dirged  now  and  then  as  cattle 
browsed  on  the  scanty  herbage  in  this  most  neglected  of 
God's  Acres.  Could  Charles  Lamb  have  turned  from  the 
pompous  epitaphs  and  high-flown  panegyrics  of  that  English 
cemetery,  to  the  rudely-lettered  boards  which  here  briefly 
told  the  names  and  ages  of  the  sleepers  in  these  narrow  beds, 
he  had  never  asked  the  question  which  now  stands  as  a 
melancholy  epigram  on  family  favoritism  and  human  frailty. 
Gold  gilds  even  the  lineaments  and  haunts  of  Death,  making 
Pere  la  Chaise  a  favored  spot  for  fetes  champctres;  while 
poverty  hangs  neither  veil  nor  mask  over  the  grinning  ghoul, 
and  flees,  superstition-spurred,  from  the  hideous  precincts. 

In  one  corner  of  the  inclosure,  where  Edna's  parents  slept, 
she  found  the  new  mounds  that  covered  the  remains  of  those 
who  had  nurtured  and  guarded  her  young  life;  and  on  an 
unpainted  board  was  written  in  large  letters : 

"To  the  memory  of  Aaron  Hunt:  an  honest  blacksmith, 
and  true  Christian ;  aged  sixty-eight  years  and  six  months." 

Here,  with  her  head  on  her  grandfather's  grave,  and  the 


24  ST.  ELMO. 

faithful  dog  crouched  at  her  feet,  lay  the  orphan,  wrestling 
with  grief  and  loneliness,  striving  to  face  a  future  that 
loomed  before  her  spectre-thronged;  and  here  Mr.  Wood 
found  her  when  anxiety  at  her  long  absence  induced  his  wife 
to  search  for  the  missing  invalid.  The  storm  of  sobs  and 
tears  had  spent  itself,  fortitude  took  the  measure  of  the 
burden  imposed,  shouldered  the  galling  weight,  and  hence 
forth,  with  undimmed  vision,  walked  steadily  to  the  ap 
pointed  goal.  The  miller  was  surprised  to  find  her  so  calm, 
and  as  they  went  homeward  she  asked  the  particulars  of  all 
that  had  occurred,  and  thanked  him  gravely  but  cordially 
for  the  kind  care  bestowed  upon  her,  and  for  the  last 
friendly  offices  performed  for  her  grandfather. 

Conscious  of  her  complete  helplessness  and  physical  pros 
tration,  she  ventured  no  allusion  to  the  future,  but  waited 
patiently  until  renewed  strength  permitted  the  execution  of 
designs  now  fully  mapped  out.  Notwithstanding  her  feeble 
ness,  she  rendered  herself  invaluable  to  Mrs.  Wood,  who 
praised  her  dexterity  and  neatness  as  a  seamstress,  and  pre 
dicted  that  she  would  make  a  model  housekeeper. 

Late  one  Sunday  evening  in  May,  as  the  miller  and  his 
wife  sat  upon  the  steps  of  their  humble  and  comfortless  look 
ing  home,  they  saw  Edna  slowly  approaching,  and  surmised 
where  she  had  spent  the  afternoon.  Instead  of  going  into 
the  house  she  seated  herself  beside  them,  and,  removing  her 
bonnet,  traces  of  tears  were  visible  on  her  sad  but  patient 
face. 

"You  ought  not  to  go  over  yonder  so  often,  child.  It  is 
not  good  for  you,"  said  the  miller,  knocking  the  ashes  from 
his  pipe. 

She  shaded  her  countenance  with  her  hand,  and  after  a 
moment  said,  in  a  low  but  steady  tone : 

"I  shall  never  go  there  again.  I  have  said  good-bye  to 
everything,  and  have  nothing  now  to  keep  me  here.  You 
and  Mrs.  Wood  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  thank  you 
heartily ;  but  you  have  a  family  of  children,  and  have  your 
hands  full  to  support  them  without  taking  care  of  me.  I 
know  that  our  house  must  go  to  you  to  pay  that  old  debt,  and 
even  the  horse  and  cow;  and  there  will  be  nothing  left  when 
you  are  paid.  You  are  very  good,  indeed,  to  offer  me  a 
home  here,  and  I  never  can  forget  your  kindness;  but  I 


ST.  ELMO.  25 

should  not  be  willing  to  live  on  anybody's  charity ;  and  be 
sides,  all  the  world  is  alike  to  me  now,  and  I  want  to  get  out 
of  sight  of — of — what  shows  my  sorrow  to  me  every  day. 
I  don't  love  this  place  now ;  it  won't  let  me  forget,  even  for 
a  minute,  and — and " 

Here  the  voice  faltered  and  she  paused. 

"But  where  could  you  go,  and  how  could  you  make  your 
bread,  you  poor  little  ailing  thing?" 

"I  hear  that  in  the  town  of  Columbus,  Georgia,  even  little 
children  get  wages  to  work  in  the  factory,  and  I  know  I  can 
earn  enough  to  pay  my  board  among  the  factory  people." 

"But  you  are  too  young  to  be  straying  about  in  a  strange 
place.  If  you  will  stay  here,  and  help  my  wife  about  the 
house  and  the  weaving,  I  will  take  good  care  of  you,  and 
clothe  you  till  you  are  grown  and  married." 

"I  would  rather  go  away,  because  I  want  to  be  educated, 
and  I  can't  be  if  I  stay  here." 

"Fiddlestick!  you  will  know  as  much  as  the  balance  of  us, 
and  that's  all  you  will  ever  have  any  use  for.  I  notice  you 
have  a  hankering  after  books,  but  the  quicker  you  get  that 
foolishness  out  of  your  head  the  better;  for  books  won't  put 
bread  in  your  mouth  and  clothes  on  your  back;  and  folks 
that  want  to  be  better  than  their  neighbors  generally  turn 
out  worse.  The  less  book-learning  you  women  have  the 
better." 

"I  don't  see  that  it  is  any  of  your  business,  Peter  Wood, 
how  much  learning  we  women  choose  to  get,  provided  your 
bread  is  baked  and  your  socks  darned  when  you  want  'em. 
A  woman  has  as  good  a  right  as  a  man  to  get  book-learning, 
if  she  wants  it;  and  as  for  sense,  I'll  thank  you,  mine  is  as 
good  as  yours  any  day ;  and  folks  have  said  it  was  a  blessed 
thing  for  the  neighborhood  when  the  rheumatiz  laid  Peter 
Wood  up,  and  his  wife,  Dorothy  Elmira  Wood,  run  the  mill. 
Now,  it's  of  no  earthly  use  to  cut  at  us  women  over  that 
child's  shoulders ;  if  she  wants  an  education  she  has  as  much 
right  to  it  as  anybody,  if  she  can  pay  for  it.  My  doctrine  is, 
everybody  has  a  right  to  whatever  they  can  pay  for,  whether 
it  is  schooling  or  a  satin  frock !" 

Mrs.  Wood  seized  her  snuff-bottle  and  plunged  a  stick 
vigorously  into  the  contents,  and,  as  the  miller  showed  no 
disposition  to  skirmish,  she  continued : 


26  ST.  ELMO. 

"I  take  an  interest  in  you,  Edna  Earl,  because  I  loved  your 
mother,  who  was  the  only  sweet-tempered  beauty  that  ever 
I  knew.  I  think  I  never  set  my  eyes  on  a  prettier  face,  with 
big  brown  eyes  as  meek  as  a  partridge's ;  and  then  her  hands 
and  feet  were  as  small  as  a  queen's.  Now  as  long  as  you 
are  satisfied  to  stay  here  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you,  and  I 
will  do  as  well  for  you  as  for  my  own  Tabitha ;  but,  if  you 
are  bent  on  factory  work  and  schooling,  I  have  got  no  more 
to  say;  for  I  have  no  right  to  say  where  you  shall  go  or 
where  you  shall  stay.  But  one  thing  I  do  want  to  tell  you, 
it  is  a  serious  thing  for  a  poor,  motherless  girl  to  be  all  alone 
among  strangers." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  and  Edna  answered  slowly : 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Wood,  I  know  it  is;  but  God  can  protect  me 
there  as  well  as  here,  and  I  have  none  now  but  Him.  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  go,  because  I  think  it  is  the  best  for  me, 
and  I  hope  Mr.  Wood  will  carry  me  to  the  Chattanooga 
depot  to-morrow  morning,  as  the  train  leaves  early.  I  have 
a  little  money — seven  dollars — that — that  grandpa  gave  me 
at  different  times,  and  both  Brindle's  calves  belong  to  me — 
he  gave  them  to  me — and  I  thought  may  be  you  would  pay 
me  a  few  dollars  for  them." 

"But  you  are  not  ready  to  start  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  washed  and  ironed  my  clothes  yesterday,  and 
what  few  I  have  are  all  packed  in  my  box.  Everything  is 
ready  now,  and,  as  I  have  to  go,  I  might  as  well  start  to 
morrow." 

"Don't  you  think  you  will  get  dreadfully  homesick  in 
about  a  month,  and  write  to  me  to  come  and  fetch  you 
back  ?" 

"I  have  no  home  and  nobody  to  love  me,  how  then  can  I 
ever  be  homesick?  Grandpa's  grave  is  all  the  home  I  have, 
and — and — God  would  not  take  me  there  when  I  was  so 
sick,  and — and —  The  quiver  of  her  face  showed  that 

she  was  losing  her  self-control,  and  turning  away,  she  took 
the  cedar  piggin,  and  went  out  to  milk  Brindle  for  the  last 
time. 

Feeling  that  they  had  no  right  to  dictate  her  future  course, 
neither  the  miller  nor  his  wife  offered  any  further  oppo 
sition,  and  very  early  the  next  morning,  after  Mrs.  Wood 


ST.  ELMO.  27 

had  given  the  girl  what  she  called  "some  good  motherly  ad 
vice,"  and  provided  her  with  a  basket  containing  food  for 
the  journey,  she  kissed  her  heartily  several  times,  and  saw 
her  stowed  away  in  the  miller's  covered  cart,  which  was  to 
convey  her  to  the  railway  station.  The  road  ran  by  the  old 
blacksmith's  shop,  and  Mr.  Wood's  eyes  filled  as  he  noticed 
the  wistful,  lingering,  loving  gaze  which  the  girl  fixed  upon 
it,  until  a  grove  of  trees  shut  out  the  view;  then  the  head 
bowed  itself,  and  a  stifled  moan  reached  his  ears. 

The  engine  whistled  as  they  approached  the  station,  and 
Edna  was  hurried  aboard  the  train,  while  her  companion 
busied  himself  in  transferring  her  box  of  clothing  to  the 
baggage  car.  She  had  insisted  on  taking  her  grandfather's 
dog  with  her,  and,  notwithstanding  the  horrified  looks  of  the 
passengers  and  the  scowl  of  the  conductor,  he  followed  her 
into  the  car  and  threw  himself  under  the  seat,  glaring  at  all 
who  passed,  and  looking  as  hideously  savage  as  the  Norse 
Managarmar. 

"You  can't  have  a  whole  seat  to  yourself,  and  nobody 
wants  to  sit  near  that  ugly  brute,"  said  the  surly  conductor. 

Edna  glanced  down  the  aisle,  and  saw  two  young  gentle 
men  stretched  at  full  length  on  separate  seats,  eyeing  her 
curiously. 

Observing  that  the  small  seat  next  to  the  door  was  par 
tially  filled  with  the  luggage  of  the  parties  who  sat  in  front 
of  it,  she  rose  and  called  to  the  dog,  saying  to  the  conductor 
as  she  did  so : 

"I  will  take  that  half  of  a  seat  yonder,  where  I  shall  be  in 
nobody's  way." 

Here  Mr.  Wood  came  forward,  thrust  her  ticket  into  her 
fingers,  and  shook  her  hand  warmly,  saying  hurriedly : 

"Hold  on  to  your  ticket,  and  don't  put  your  head  out  of 
the  window.  I  told  the  conductor  he  must  look  after  you 
and  your  box  when  you  left  the  cars ;  said  he  would.  Good- 
by,  Edna;  take  care  of  yourself,  and  may  God  bless  you, 
child." 

The  locomotive  whistled,  the  train  moved  slowly  on,  and 
the  miller  hastened  back  to  his  cart 

As  the  engine  got  fully  under  way,  and  dashed  around  a 
curve,  the  small,  straggling  village  disappeared,  trees  and 


28  ST.  ELMO. 

hills  seemed  to  the  orphan  to  fly  past  the  window ;  and  when 
she  leaned  out  and  looked  back,  only  the  mist-mantled  rocks 
of  Lookout,  and  the  dim,  purplish  outline  of  the  Sequatchie 
heights  were  familiar. 

In  the  shadow  of  that  solitary  sentinel  peak  her  life  had 
been  passed;  she  had  gathered  chestnuts  and  chincapins 
among  its  wooded  clefts,  and  clambered  over  its  gray 
boulders  as  fearlessly  as  the  young  llamas  of  the  Parime; 
and  now,  as  it  rapidly  receded  and  finally  vanished,  she  felt 
as  if  the  last  link  that  bound  her  to  the  past  had  suddenly 
snapped ;  the  last  friendly  face  which  had  daily  looked  down 
on  her  for  twelve  years  was  shut  out  forever,  and  she  and 
Grip  were  indeed  alone,  in  a  great,  struggling  world  of  self 
ishness  and  sin.  The  sun  shone  dazzlingly  over  wide  fields 
of  grain,  whose  green  billows  swelled  and  surged  under  the 
freshening  breeze;  golden  butterflies  fluttered  over  the  pink 
and  blue  morning-glories  that  festooned  the  rail-fences ;  a 
brakeman  whistled  merrily  on  the  platform,  and  children 
inside  the  car  prattled  and  played,  while  at  ore  end  a  slender 
little  girlish  figure,  in  homespun  dress  and  pink  calico  bon 
net,  crouched  in  a  corner  of  the  seat,  staring  back  in  the 
direction  of  hooded  Lookout,  feeling  that  each  instant  bore 
her  farther  from  the  dear  graves  of  her  dead;  and  oppressed 
with  an  intolerable  sense  of  desolation  and  utter  isolation  in 
the  midst  of  hundreds  of  her  own  race,  who  were  too  en 
tirely  absorbed  in  their  individual  speculations,  fears  and 
aims,  to  spare  even  a  glance  at  that  solitary  young  mariner, 
who  saw  the  last  headland  fade  from  view,  and  found  her 
self,  with  no  pilot  but  ambition,  drifting  rapidly  out  on  the 
great,  unknown,  treacherous  Sea  of  Life,  strewn  with 
mournful  human  wrecks,  whom  the  charts  and  buoys  of  six 
thousand  years  of  navigation  could  not  guide  to  a  haven  of 
usefulness  and  peace.  Interminable  seemed  the  dreary  day, 
which  finally  drew  to  a  close,  and  Edna,  who  was  weary  of 
her  cramped  position,  laid  her  aching  head  on  the  window- 
sill,  and  watched  the  red  light  of  day  die  in  the  wyest,  where 
a  young  moon  hung  her  silvery  crescent  among  the  dusky 
tree-tops,  and  the  stars  flashed  out  thick  and  fast.  Far  away 
among  strangers,  uncared  for  and  unnoticed,  come  what 
might,  she  felt  that  God's  changeless  stars  smiled  down  as 


ST.  ELMO.  29 

lovingly  upon  her  face  as  on  her  grandfather's  grave;  and 
that  the  cosmopolitan  language  of  nature  knew  neither  the 
modifications  of  time  and  space,  the  distinctions  of  social 
caste,  nor  the  limitations  of  national  dialects. 

As  the  night  wore  on,  she  opened  the  cherished  copy  of 
Dante  and  tried  to  read,  but  the  print  was  too  fine  for  the 
dim  lamp  which  hung  at  some  distance  from  her  corner. 
Her  head  ached  violently,  and,  as  sleep  was  impossible,  she 
put  the  book  back  in  her  pocket,  and  watched  the  flitting 
trees  and  fences,  rocky  banks,  and  occasional  houses,  which 
seemed  weird  in  the  darkness.  As  silence  deepened  in  the 
car,  her  sense  of  loneliness  became  more  and  more  painful, 
and  finally  she  turned  and  pressed  her  cheek  against  the  fair, 
chubby  hand  of  a  baby,  who  slept  with  its  curly  head  on  its 
mother's  shoulder,  and  its  little  dimpled  arm  and  hand  hang 
ing  over  the  back  of  the  seat.  There  was  comfort  and  a 
soothing  sensation  of  human  companionship  in  the  touch  of 
that  baby's  hand;  it  seemed  a  link  in  the  electric  chain  of 
sympathy,  and,  after  a  time,  the  orphan's  eyes  closed — 
fatigue  conquered  memory  and  sorrow,  and  she  fell  asleep 
with  her  lips  pressed  to  those  mesmeric  baby  fingers,  and 
Grip's  head  resting  against  her  knee. 

Diamond-powdered  "lilies  of  the  field"  folded  their  per 
fumed  petals  under  the  Syrian  dew,  wherewith  God  nightly 
baptized  them  in  token  of  his  ceaseless  guardianship,  and 
the  sinless  world  of  birds,  the  "fowls  of  the  air,"  those  se 
cure  and  blithe,  yet  improvident,  little  gleaners  in  God's 
granary,  nestled  serenely  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty 
wing;  but  was  the  all-seeing,  all-directing  Eye  likewise  upon 
that  desolate  and  destitute  young  mourner  who  sank  to  rest 
with  "Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven"  upon  her  trembling 
lips?  Was  it  a  decree  in  the  will  and  wisdom  of  our  God, 
or  a  fiat  from  the  blind  fumbling  of  Atheistic  Chance,  or 
was  it  in  accordance  with  the  rigid  edict  of  Pantheistic 
Necessity,  that  at  that  instant  the  cherubim  of  death  swooped 
down  on  the  sleeping  passengers,  and  silver  cords  and 
golden  bowls  were  rudely  snapped  and  crushed,  amid  the 
crash  of  timbers,  the  screams  of  women  and  children,  and 
the  groans  of  tortured  men,  that  made  night  hideous?  Over 
the  holy  hills  of  Judea,  out  of  crumbling  Jerusalem,  the  mes- 


3o  ST.  ELMO. 

sage  of  Messiah  has  floated  on  the  wings  of  eighteen  cen 
turies:  "What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt 
know  hereafter." 

Edna  was  awakened  by  a  succession  of  shrill  sounds, 
which  indicated  that  the  engineer  was  either  frightened  or 
frantic;  the  conductor  rushed  bare-headed  through  the  car; 
people  sprang  to  their  feet;  there  was  a  scramble  on  the 
platform;  then  a  shock  and  crash  as  if  the  day  of  doom 
had  dawned — and  all  was  chaos. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

.^VIEWED  by  the  aid  of  lanterns  and  the  lurid,  flickering 
light  of  torches,  the  scene  of  disaster  presented  a  ghastly 
debris  of  dead  and  dying,  of  crushed  cars  and  wounded  men 
and  women,  who  writhed  and  groaned  among  the  shattered 
timbers  from  which  they  found  it  impossible  to  extricate 
themselves.  The  cries  of  those  who  recognized  relatives  in 
the  mutilated  corpses  that  were  dragged  out  from  the  wreck 
increased  the  horrors  of  the  occasion ;  and  when  Edna 
opened  her  eyes  amid  the  flaring  of  torches  and  the  piercing 
wails  of  the  bereaved  passengers,  the  first  impression  was, 
that  she  had  died  and  gone  to  Dante's  "Hell ;"  but  the  pangs 
that  seized  her  when  she  attempted  to  move  soon  dispelled 
this  frightful  illusion,  and  by  degrees  the  truth  presented 
itself  to  her  blunted  faculties.  She  was  held  fast  between 
timbers,  one  of  which  seemed  to  have  fallen  across  her  feet 
and  crushed  them,  as  she  was  unable  to  move  them,  and  was 
conscious  of  a  horrible  sensation  of  numbness ;  one  arm,  too, 
was  pinioned  at  her  side,  and  something  heavy  and  cold  lay 
upon  her  throat  and  chest.  Lifting  this  weight  with  her  un 
injured  hand,  she  uttered  an  exclamation  of  horror  as  the 
white  face  of  the  little  baby  whose  fingers  she  had  clasped 
now  met  her  astonished  gaze ;  and  she  saw  that  the  sweet 
coral  lips  were  pinched  and  purple,  the  waxen  lids  lay  rigid 
over  the  blue  eyes,  and  the  dimpled  hand  was  stiff  and  icy. 
The  confusion  increased  as  day  dawned  and  a  large  crowd 
collected  to  offer  assistance,  and  Edna  watched  her  ap 
proaching  deliverers  as  they  cut  their  way  through  the 
wreck  and  lifted  out  the  wretched  sufferers.  Finally  two 
men,  with  axes  in  their  hands,  bent  down  and  looked  into 
her  face. 

"Here  is  a  live  child  and  a  dead  baby  wedged  in  between 
these  beams.    Are  you  much  hurt,  little  one  ?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  am.    Please  take  this  log  off  my  feet." 
It  was  a  difficult  matter,  but  at  length  strong  arms  raised 

[31] 


32  ST.  ELMO. 

her,  carried  her  some  distance  from  the  ruins,  and  placed 
her  on  the  grass,  where  several  other  persons  were  writhing 
and  groaning.  The  collision  which  precipitated  the  train 
from  trestle-work  over  a  deep  ravine,  had  occurred  near  a 
village  station,  and  two  physicians  were  busily  engaged  in 
examining  the  wounded.  The  sun  had  risen,  and  shone  full 
on  Edna's  pale,  suffering  face,  when  one  of  the  surgeons, 
with  a  countenance  that  indexed  earnest  sympathy  and  com 
passion,  came  to  investigate  the  extent  of  her  injuries,  and 
sat  down  on  the  grass  beside  her.  Very  tenderly  he  handled 
her,  and  after  a  few  moments  said  gently : 

"I  am  obliged  to  hurt  you  a  little,  my  child,  for  your 
shoulder  is  dislocated,  and  some  of  the  bones  are  broken  in 
your  feet;  but  I  will  be  as  tender  as  possible.  Here,  Len 
nox  !  help  me." 

The  pain  was  so  intense  that  she  fainted,  and  after  a  short 
time,  when  she  recovered  her  consciousness,  her  feet  and 
ankles  were  tightly  bandaged,  and  the  doctor  was  chafing 
her  hands  and  bathing  her  face  with  some  powerful  extract. 
Smoothing  back  her  hair,  he  said : 

"Were  your  parents  on  the  cars  ?  Do  you  know  whether 
they  are  hurt?" 

"They  both  died  when  I  was  a  baby." 

"Who  was  with  you  ?" 

"Nobody  but  Grip — my  dog." 

"Had  you  no  relatives  or  friends  on  the  train?" 

"I  have  none.    I  am  all  alone  in  the  world." 

"Where  did  you  come  from?" 

"Chattanooga." 

"Where  were  you  going?" 

"My  grandpa  died,  and  as  I  had  nobody  to  take  care  of 
me,  I  was  going  to  Columbus  to  work  in  the  cotton  factory." 

"Humph!  Much  work  you  will  do  for  many  a  long 
day." 

He  stroked  his  grayish  beard,  and  mused  a  moment,  and 
Edna  said  timidly: 

"If  you  please,  sir,  I  would  like  to  know  if  my  dog  is 
hurt?" 

The  physician  smiled,  and  looked  round  inquiringly. 

"Has  any  one  seen  a  dog  that  was  on  the  train  ?" 


ST.  ELMO.  33 

One  of  the  brakemen,  a  stout  Irishman,  took  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth,  and  answered: 

"Aye,  aye,  sir !  and  as  vicious  a  brute  as  ever  I  set  eyes 
on.  Both  his  hind  legs  were  smashed — dragged  so — and  I 
tapped  him  on  the  head  with  an  axe  to  put  him  out  of  his 
misery.  Yonder  he  now  lies  on  the  track." 

Edna  put  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  and  turned  her  face 
down  on  the  grass  to  hide  tears  that  would  not  be  driven 
back.  Here  the  surgeon  was  called  away,  and  for  a  half 
hour  the  child  lay  there,  wondering  what  would  become  of 
her,  in  her  present  crippled  and  helpless  condition,  and 
questioning  in  her  heart  why  God  did  not  take  her  instead  of 
that  dimpled  darling,  whose  parents  were  now  weeping  so 
bitterly  for  the  untimely  death  that  mowed  their  blossom 
ere  its  petals  were  expanded.  The  chilling  belief  was  fast 
gaining  ground  that  God  had  cursed  and  forsaken  her ;  that 
misfortune  and  bereavement  would  dog  her  steps  through 
life;  and  a  hard,  bitter  expression  settled  about  her  mouth, 
and  looked  out  gloomily  from  the  sad  eyes.  Her  painful 
reverie  was  interrupted  by  the  cheery  voice  of  Dr.  Rodney, 
who  came  back,  accompanied  by  an  elegantly-dressed  mid 
dle-aged  lady. 

"Ah,  my  brave  little  soldier!    Tell  us  your  name." 

"Edna  Earl." 

"Have  you  no  relatives?"  asked  the  lady,  stooping  to 
scrutinize  her  face. 

"No,  ma'am." 

"She  is  a  very  pretty  child,  Mrs.  Murray,  and  if  you  can 
take  care  of  her,  even  for  a  few  weeks,  until  she  is  able  to 
walk  about,  it  will  be  a  real  charity.  I  never  saw  so  much 
fortitude  displayed  by  one  so  young;  but  her  fever  is  in 
creasing,  and  she  needs  immediate  attention.  Will  it  be 
convenient  for  you  to  carry  her  to  your  house  at  once?" 

"Certainly,  doctor ;  order  the  carriage  driven  up  as  close 
as  possible.  I  brought  a  small  mattress,  and  think  the  ride 
will  not  be  very  painful.  What  splendid  eyes  she  has !  Poor 
little  thing!  Of  course  you  will  come  and  prescribe  for 
her,  and  I  will  see  that  she  is  carefully  nursed  until  she  is 
quite  well  again.  Here,  Henry,  you  and  Richard  must  lift 
this  child,  and  put  her  on  the  mattress  in  the  carriage.  Mind 
you  do  not  stumble  and  hurt  her." 


34 


ST.  ELMO. 


During  the  drive  neither  spoke,  and  Edna  was  in  so  much 
pain  that  she  lay  with  her  eyes  closed.  As  they  entered  a 
long  avenue,  the  rattle  of  the  wheels  on  the  gravel  aroused 
the  child's  attention,  and  when  the  carriage  stopped,  and 
she  was  carried  up  a  flight  of  broad  marble  steps,  she  saw 
that  the  house  was  very  large  and  handsome. 

"Bring  her  into  the  room  next  to  mine,"  said  Mrs.  Mur 
ray,  leading  the  way. 

Edna  was  soon  undressed  and  placed  within  the  snowy 
sheets  of  a  heavily-carved  bedstead,  whose  crimson  canopy 
shed  a  ruby  light  down  on  the  laced  and  ruffled  pillows. 
Mrs.  Murray  administered  a  dose  of  medicine  given  to  her  by 
Dr.  Rodney,  and  after  closing  the  blinds  to  exclude  the 
light,  she  felt  the  girl's  pulse,  found  that  she  had  fallen  into 
a  heavy  sleep,  and  then,  with  a  sigh,  went  down  to  take  her 
breakfast.  It  was  several  hours  before  Edna  awoke,  and 
when  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  looked  around  the  elegantly 
furnished  and  beautiful  room,  she  felt  bewildered.  Mrs. 
Murray  sat  in  a  cushioned  chair,  near  one  of  the  windows, 
with  a  book  in  her  hand,  and  Edna  had  an  opportunity  of 
studying  her  face.  It  was  fair,  proud,  and  handsome,  but 
wore  an  expression  of  habitual  anxiety;  and  gray  hairs 
showed  themselves  under  the  costly  lace  that  bordered  her 
morning  head-dress,  while  lines  of  care  marked  her  brow 
and  mouth.  Children  instinctively  decipher  the  hieroglyphics 
which  time  carves  on  human  faces,  and,  in  reading  the  coun 
tenance  of  her  hostess,  Edna  felt  that  she  was  a  haughty, 
ambitious  woman,  with  a  kind  but  not  very  warm  heart,  who 
would  be  scrupulously  attentive  to  the  wants  of  a  sick  child, 
but  would  probably  never  dream  of  caressing  or  fondling 
such  a  charge.  Chancing  to  glance  towards  the  bed  as  she 
turned  a  leaf,  Mrs.  Murray  met  the  curious  gaze  fastened 
upon  her,  and,  rising,  approached  the  sufferer. 

"How  do  you  feel,  Edna?    I  believe  that  is  your  name." 
"Thank  you,  my  head  is  better,  but  I  am  very  thirsty." 
The  lady  of  the  house  gave  her  some  iced  water  in  a 
silver  goblet,  and  ordered  a  servant  to  bring  up  the  refresh 
ments  she  had  directed  prepared.     As  she   felt  the  girl's 
pulse,  Edna  noticed  how  white  and  soft  her  hands  were,  and 
how  dazzlingly  the  jewels  flashed  on  her  fingers,  and  she 


ST.  ELMO.  35 

longed  for  the  touch  of  those  aristocratic  hands  on  her  hot 
brow,  where  the  hair  clustered  so  heavily. 

"How  old  are  you,  Edna?" 

"Almost  thirteen." 

"Had  you  any  luggage  on  the  train  ?" 

"I  had  a  small  box  of  clothes." 

"I  will  send  a  servant  for  it."  She  rang  the  bell  as  she 
spoke. 

"When  do  you  think  I  shall  be  able  to  walk  about?" 

"Probably  not  for  many  weeks.  If  you  need  or  wish 
anything  you  must  not  hesitate  to  ask  for  it.  A  servant 
will  sit  here,  and  you  have  only  to  tell  her  what  you  want." 

"You  are  very  kind,  ma'am,  and  I  thank  you  very  much 
"  She  paused,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

Mrs.  Murray  looked  at  her  and  said  gravely: 

"What  is  the  matter,  child  ?" 

"I  am  only  sorry  I  was  so  ungrateful  and  wicked  this 
morning." 

"How  so  ?" 

"Oh!  everything  that  I  love  dies;  and  when  I  lay  there 
on  the  grass,  unable  to  move,  among  strangers  who  knew 
and  cared  nothing  about  me,  I  was  wicked,  and  would  not 
try  to  pray,  and  thought  God  wanted  to  make  me  suffer  all 
my  life,  and  I  wished  that  I  had  been  killed  instead  of  that 
dear  little  baby,  who  had  a  father  and  mother  to  kiss  and 
love  it.  It  was  all  wrong  to  feel  so,  but  I  was  so  wretched. 
And  then  God  raised  up  friends  even  among  strangers,  and 
shows  me  I  am  not  forsaken  if  I  am  desolate.  I  begin  to 
think  He  took  everybody  away  from  me,  that  I  might  see 
how  He  could  take  care  of  me  without  them.  I  know  'He 
doeth  all  things  well,'  but  I  feel  it  now ;  and  I  am  so  sorry 
I  could  not  trust  Him  without  seeing  it." 

Edna  wiped  away  her  tears,  and  Mrs.  Murray's  voice 
faltered  slightly  as  she  said : 

"You  are  a  good  little  girl,  I  have  no  doubt.  Who  taught 
you  to  be  so  religious  ?" 

"Grandpa." 

"How  long  since  you  lost  him?" 

"Four  months." 

"Can  you  read?" 

"Oh !  yes,  ma'am." 


36  ST.  ELMO. 

"Well,  I  shall  send  you  a  Bible,  and  you  must  make  your 
self  as  contented  as  possible.  I  shall  take  good  care  of 
you." 

As  the  hostess  left  the  room  a  staid-looking,  elderly  negro 
woman  took  a  seat  at  the  window  and  sewed  silently,  now 
and  then  glancing  toward  the  bed.  Exhausted  with  pain 
and  fatigue,  Edna  slept  again,  and  it  was  night  when  she 
opened  her  eyes  and  found  Dr.  Rodney  and  Mrs.  Murray 
at  her  pillow.  The  kind  surgeon  talked  pleasantly  for  some 
time,  and,  after  giving  ample  instructions,  took  his  leave, 
exhorting  his  patient  to  keep  up  her  fortitude  and  all  would 
soon  be  well.  So  passed  the  first  day  of  her  sojourn  under 
the  hospitable  roof  which  appeared  so  fortuitously  to  shelter 
her ;  and  the  child  thanked  God  fervently  for  the  kind  hands 
into  which  she  had  fallen.  Day  after  day  wore  wearily  away, 
and  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  though  much  prostrated  by 
fever  and  suffering,  she  was  propped  up  in  bed  by  pillows, 
while  Hagar,  the  servant,  combed  and  plaited  the  long,  thick, 
matted  hair.  Mrs.  Murray  came  often  to  the  room,  but  her 
visits  were  short,  and  though  invariably  kind  and  consid 
erate,  Edna  felt  an  involuntary  awe  of  her,  which  rendered 
her  manner  exceedingly  constrained  when  they  were  to 
gether.  Hagar  was  almost  as  taciturn  as  her  mistress,  and 
as  the  girl  asked  few  questions,  she  remained  in  complete 
ignorance  of  the  household  affairs,  and  had  never  seen  any 
one  but  Mrs.  Murray,  Hagar,  and  the  doctor.  She  was  well 
supplied  with  books,  which  the  former  brought  from  the 
library,  and  thus  the  invalid  contrived  to  amuse  herself  dur 
ing  the  long,  tedious  summer  days.  One  afternoon  in  June, 
Edna  persuaded  Hagar  to  lift  her  to  a  large,  cushioned  chair 
close  to  the  open  window  which  looked  out  on  the  lawn ; 
and  here,  with  a  book  on  her  lap,  she  sat  gazing  out  at  the 
soft  blue  sky,  the  waving  elm  boughs,  and  the  glittering 
plumage  of  a  beautiful  Himalayan  pheasant,  which  seemed 
in  the  golden  sunshine  to  have  forgotten  the  rosy  glow  of 
his  native  snows.  Leaning  her  elbows  on  the  window-sill, 
Edna  rested  her  face  in  her  palms,  and  after  a  few  minutes 
a  tide  of  tender  memories  rose  and  swept  over  her  heart, 
bringing  a  touching  expression  of  patient  sorrow  to  her 
sweet,  wan  face,  and  giving  a  far-off  wistful  look  to  the 
beautiful  eyes  where  tears  often  gathered  but  very  rarely 


ST.  ELMO.  37 

fell.  Hagar  had  dressed  her  in  a  new  white  muslin  wrap 
per,  with  fluted  ruffles  at  the  wrists  and  throat ;  and  the  fair 
young  face,  with  its  delicate  features,  and  glossy  folds  of 
soft  hair,  was  a  pleasant  picture,  which  the  nurse  loved  to 
contemplate.  Standing  with  her  work-basket  in  her  hand, 
she  watched  the  graceful  little  figure  for  two  or  three 
moments,  and  a  warm,  loving  light  shone  out  over  her  black 
features ;  then  nodding  her  head  resolutely,  she  muttered : 

"I  will  have  my  way  this  once ;  she  shall  stay,"  and  passed 
out  of  the  room,  closing  the  door  behind  her.  Edna  did  not 
remark  her  departure,  for  memory  was  busy  among  the 
ashes  of  other  days,  exhuming  a  thousand  precious  reminis 
cences  of  mountain  home,  chestnut  groves,  showers  of 
sparks  fringing  an  anvil  with  fire,  and  an  old  man's  un- 
painted  head-board  in  the  deserted  burying-ground.  She 
started  nervously  when,  a  half  hour  later,  Mrs.  Murray  laid 
her  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder,  and  said : 

"Child,  of  what  are  you  thinking?" 

For  an  instant  she  could  not  command  her  voice,  which 
faltered ;  but  making  a  strong  effort,  she  answered  in  a  low 
tone: 

"Of  all  that  I  have  lost,  and  what  I  am  to  do  in  future." 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  work  all  your  life  in  a  fac 
tory  ?" 

"No,  ma'am ;  only  long  enough  to  educate  myself,  so  that 
I  could  teach." 

"You  could  not  obtain  a  suitable  education  in  that  way, 
and  beside,  I  do  not  think  that  the  factory  you  spoke  of 
would  be  an  agreeable  place  for  you.  I  have  made  some 
inquiries  about  it  since  you  came  here." 

"I  know  it  will  not  be  pleasant,  but  then  I  am  obliged  to 
work  in  some  way,  and  I  don't  see  what  else  I  can  do.  I  am 
not  able  to  pay  for  an  education  now,  and  I  am  determined 
to  have  one." 

Mrs.  Murray's  eyes  wandered  out  toward  the  velvety 
lawn,  and  she  mused  for  some  minutes;  then  laying  her 
hands  on  the  orphan's  head,  she  said: 

"Child,  will  you  trust  your  future  and  your  education  to 
me?  I  do  not  mean  that  I  will  teach  you — oh!  no — but  I 
will  have  you  thoroughly  educated,  so  that  when  you  are 
grown  you  can  support  yourself  by  teaching.  I  have  no 


38  ST.  ELMO. 

daughter — I  lost  mine  when  she  was  a  babe ;  but  I  could  not 
have  seen  her  enter  a  factory,  and  as  you  remind  me  of  my 
own  child,  I  will  not  allow  you  to  go  there.  I  will  take  care 
of  and  educate  you — will  see  that  you  have  everything  you 
require,  if  you  are  willing  to  be  directed  and  advised  by  me. 
Understand  me,  I  do  not  adopt  you ;  nor  shall  I  consider  you 
exactly  as  one  of  my  family;  but  I  shall  prove  a  good  friend 
and  protector  till  you  are  eighteen,  and  capable  of  providing 
for  yourself.  You  will  live  in  my  house  and  look  upon  it  as 
your  home,  at  least  for  the  present.  What  do  you  say  to 
this  plan?  Is  it  not  much  better  and  more  pleasant  than  a 
wild-goose  chase  after  an  education  through  the  dust  and 
din  of  a  factory?" 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Murray!  You  are  very  generous  and  good, 
but  I  have  no  claim  on  you — no  right  to  impose  such  ex 
pense  and  trouble  upon  you.  I  am " 

"Hush,  child !  you  have  that  claim  which  poverty  always 
has  on  wealth.  As  for  the  expense,  that  is  a  mere  trifle, 
and  I  do  not  expect  you  to  give  me  any  trouble;  perhaps 
you  may  even  make  yourself  useful  to  me." 

"Thank  you !  oh !  thank  you,  ma'am !  I  am  very  grateful ! 
I  can  not  tell  you  how  much  I  thank  you ;  but  I  shall  try  to 
prove  it.  if  you  will  let  me  stay  here — on  one  condition." 

"What  is  that?" 

"That  when  I  am  able  to  pay  you,  you  will  receive  the 
money  that  my  education  and  clothes  will  cost  you." 

Mrs.  Murray  laughed,  and  stroked  the  silky  black  hair. 

"Where  did  you  get  such  proud  notions?  Pay  me,  in 
deed  !  You  poor  little  beggar !  Ha !  ha !  ha !  Well,  yes, 
you  may  do  as  you  please,  when  you  are  able;  that  time  is 
rather  too  distant  to  be  considered  now.  Meanwhile,  quit 
grieving  over  the  past,  and  think  only  of  improving  your 
self.  I  do  not  like  doleful  faces,  and  shall  expect  you  to  be 
a  cheerful,  contented,  and  obedient  girl.  Hagar  is  making 
you  an  entire  set  of  new  clothes,  and  I  hope  to  see  you  al 
ways  neat.  I  shall  give  you  a  smaller  room  than  this — the  one 
across  the  hall ;  you  will  keep  your  books  there,  and  remain 
there  during  study  hours.  At  other  times  you  can  come  to  my 
room,  or  amuse  yourself  as  you  like;  and  when  there  is 
company  here,  remember,  I  shall  always  expect  you  to  sit 
quietly,  and  listen  to  the  conversation,  as  it  is  very  improv- 


ST.  ELMO.  39 

ing  to  young  girls  to  be  in  really  good  society.  You  will 
have  a  music  teacher,  and  practice  on  the  upright  piano  in 
the  library,  instead  of  the  large  one  in  the  parlor.  One 
thing  more,  if  you  want  anything,  come  to  me,  and  ask  for 
it,  and  I  shall  be  very  much  displeased  if  you  talk  to  the 
servants,  or  encourage  them  to  talk  to  you.  Now,  every 
thing  is  understood,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  happy,  and 
properly  improve  the  advantages  I  shall  give  you." 

Edna  drew  one  of  the  white  hands  down  to  her  lips  and 
murmured : 

"Thank  you — thank  you !  You  shall  never  have  cause  to 
regret  your  goodness;  and  your  wishes  shall  always  guide 
me." 

"Well,  well ;  I  shall  remember  this  promise,  and  trust  I 
may  never  find  it  necessary  to  remind  you  of  it.  I  dare  say 
we  shall  get  on  very  happily  together.  Don't  thank  me  any 
more,  and  hereafter  we  need  not  speak  of  the  matter." 

Mrs.  Murray  stooped,  and  for  the  first  time  kissed  the 
child's  white  forehead ;  and  Edna  longed  to  throw  her  arms 
about  the  stately  form,  but  the  polished  hauteur  awed  and 
repelled  her. 

Before  she  could  reply,  and  just  as  Mrs.  Murray  was 
moving  toward  the  door,  it  was  thrown  open,  and  a  gentle 
man  strode  into  the  room.  At  sight  of  Edna  he  stopped 
suddenly,  and  dropping  a  bag  of  game  on  the  floor,  ex 
claimed  harshly: 

"What  the  d— 1  does  this  mean  ?" 

"My  son!  I  am  so  glad  you  are  at  home  again.  I  was 
getting  quite  uneasy  at  your  long  absence.  This  is  one  of 
the  victims  of  that  terrible  railroad  disaster;  the  neighbor 
hood  is  full  of  the  sufferers.  Come  to  my  room.  When  did 
you  arrive?" 

She  linked  her  arm  in  his,  picked  up  the  game-bag,  and 
led  him  to  the  adjoining  room,  the  door  of  which  she  closed 
and  locked. 

A  painful  thrill  shot  along  Edna's  nerves,  and  an  in 
describable  sensation  of  dread,  a  presentiment  of  coming  ill, 
overshadowed  her  heart.  This  was  the  son  of  her  friend, 
and  the  first  glimpse  of  him  filled  her  with  instantaneous  re 
pugnance;  there  was  an  innate  and  powerful  repulsion 
which  she  could  not  analyze.  He  was  a  tall,  athletic  man, 


40  ST.  ELMO. 

not  exactly  young,  yet  certainly  not  elderly ;  one  of  anomal 
ous  appearance,  prematurely  old,  and,  though  not  one  white 
thread  silvered  his  thick,  waving,  brown  hair,  the  heavy  and 
habitual  scowl  on  his  high,  full  brow  had  plowed  deep  fur 
rows  such  as  age  claims  for  its  monogram.  His  features 
were  bold  but  very  regular;  the  piercing,  steel-gray  eyes 
were  unusually  large,  and  beautifully  shaded  with  long, 
heavy,  black  lashes,  but  repelled  by  their  cynical  glare ;  and 
the  finely  formed  mouth,  which  might  have  imparted  a 
wonderful  charm  to  the  countenance,  wore  a  chronic,  savage 
sneer,  as  if  it  only  opened  to  utter  jeers  and  curses.  Evi 
dently  the  face  had  once  been  singularly  handsome,  in  the 
dawn  of  his  earthly  career,  when  his  mother's  good-night 
kiss  rested  like  a  blessing  on  his  smooth,  boyish  forehead, 
and  the  prayer  learned  in  the  nursery  still  crept  across  his 
pure  lips ;  but  now  the  fair,  chiseled  lineaments  were  blotted 
by  dissipation,  and  blackened  and  distorted  by  the  baleful 
fires  of  a  fierce,  passionate  nature,  and  a  restless,  powerful, 
and  unhallowed  intellect.  Symmetrical  and  grand  as  that 
temple  of  Juno,  in  shrouded  Pompeii,  whose  polished  shafts 
gleamed  centuries  ago  in  the  morning  sunshine  of  a  day  of 
woe,  whose  untimely  night  has  endured  for  nineteen  hun 
dred  years,  so,  in  the  glorious  flush  of  his  youth,  this  man 
had  stood  facing  a  noble  and  possibly  a  sanctified  future; 
but  the  ungovernable  flames  of  sin  had  reduced  him,  like 
that  darkened  and  desecrated  fane,  to  a  melancholy  mass  of 
ashy  arches  and  blackened  columns,  where  ministering 
priests,  all  holy  aspirations,  slumbered  in  the  dust.  His  dress 
was  costly  but  negligent,  and  the  red  stain  on  his  jacket  told 
that  his  hunt  had  not  been  fruitless.  He  wore  a  straw  hat, 
belted  with  broad  black  ribbon,  and  his  spurred  boots  were 
damp  and  muddy. 

What  was  there  about  this  surly  son  of  her  hostess  which 
recalled  to  Edna's  mind  her  grandfather's  words,  "He  is  a 
rude,  wicked,  blasphemous  man."  She  had  not  distinctly  seen 
the  face  of  the  visitor  at  the  shop ;  but  something  in  the  im 
patient,  querulous  tone,  in  the  hasty,  haughty  step,  and  the 
proud  lifting  of  the  regal  head,  reminded  her  painfully  of 
him  whose  overbearing  insolence  had  so  unwontedly  stirred 
the  ire  of  Aaron  Hunt's  genial  and  generally  equable  nature. 
While  she  pondered  this  inexplicable  coincidence,  voices 


ST.  ELMO.  41 

startled  her  from  the  next  room,  whence  the  sound  floated 
through  the  window. 

"If  you  were  not  my  mother,  I  should  say  you  were  a 
candidate  for  a  straight-jacket  and  a  lunatic  asylum;  but  as 
those  amiable  proclivities  are  considered  hereditary,  I  do 
not  favor  that  comparison.  'Sorry  for  her,'  indeed!  I'll  bet 
my  right  arm  it  will  not  be  six  weeks  before  she  makes  you 
infinitely  sorrier  for  your  deluded  self;  and  you  will  treat 
me  to  a  new  version  of  'je  me  regrette!'  With  your  knowl 
edge  of  this  precious  world  and  its  holy  crew,  I  confess  it 
seems  farcical  in  the  extreme  that  open-eyed  you  can  ven 
ture  another  experiment  on  human  nature.  Some  fine  morn 
ing  you  will  rub  your  eyes  and  find  your  acolyte  non  est; 
ditto,  your  silver  forks,  diamonds,  and  gold  spoons." 

Edna  felt  the  indignant  blood  burning  in  her  cheeks,  and 
as  she  could  not  walk  without  assistance,  and  shrank  from 
listening  to  a  conversation  which  was  not  intended  for  her 
ears,  she  coughed  several  times  to  arrest  the  attention  of  the 
speakers,  but  apparently  without  effect,  for  the  son's  voice 
again  rose  above  the  low  tones  of  the  mother. 

"Oh,  carnival  of  shams!  She  is  'pious/  you  say?  Then, 
I'll  swear  my  watch  is  not  safe  in  my  pocket,  and  I  shall 
sleep  with  the  key  of  my  cameo  cabinet  tied  around  my 
neck.  A  Paris  police  would  not  insure  your  valuables  or 
mine.  The  facts  forbid  that  your  pen-feathered  saint  should 
decamp  with  some  of  my  costly  travel-scrapings!  'Pious,' 
indeed !  'Edna,'  forsooth !  No  doubt  her  origin  and  morals 
are  quite  as  apocryphal  as  her  name.  Don't  talk  to  me  about 
'her  being  providentially  thrown  into  your  hands,'  unless  you 
desire  to  hear  me  say  things  which  you  have  frequently 
taken  occasion  to  inform  me  'deeply  grieved'  you.  I  dare 
say  the  little  vagrant  whines  in  what  she  considers  orthodox 
phraseology,  that  'God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb !' 
and,  like  some  other  pious  people  whom  I  have  heard  cant 
ing,  will  saddle  some  Jewish  prophet  or  fisherman  with  the 
dictum,  thinking  that  it  sounds  like  the  Bible,  whereas 
Sterne  said  it.  Shorn  lamb,  forsooth!  We,  or  rather  you, 
madame,  ma  mere,  will  be  shorn — thoroughly  fleeced! 
Pious?  Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Here  followed  an  earnest  expostulation  from  Mrs.  Mur- 


42  ST.  ELMO. 

ray,  only  a  few  words  of  which  were  audible,  and  once 
more  the  deep,  strong,  bitter  tones  rejoined : 

"Interfere!  Pardon  me,  I  am  only  too  happy  to  stand 
aloof  and  watch  the  little  wretch  play  out  her  game.  Most 
certainly  it  is  your  own  affair,  but  you  will  permit  me  to  be 
amused,  will  you  not?  And  with  your  accustomed  suavity 
forgive  me,  if  I  chance  inadvertently  to  whisper  above  my 
breath,  'Le  feu  rien  vaut  pas  la  chandelle?'  What  the  deuce 
do  you  suppose  I  care  about  her  'faith?'  She  may  run 
through  the  whole  catalogue  from  the  mustard-seed  size  up, 
as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  and  you  may  make  yourself  easy 
on  the  score  of  my  'contaminating'  the  sanctified  vagrant!" 

"St.  Elmo!  my  son!  promise  me  that  you  will  not  scoff 
and  sneer  at  her  religion;  at  least  in  her  presence,"  pleaded 
the  mother. 

A  ringing,  mirthless  laugh  was  the  only  reply  that  reached 
the  girl,  as  she  put  her  fingers  in  her  ears  and  hid  her  face 
on  the  window-sill. 

It  was  no  longer  possible  to  doubt  the  identity  of  the 
stranger;  the  initials  on  the  fly-leaf  meant  St.  Elmo  Mur 
ray;  and  she  knew  that  in  the  son  of  her  friend  and  pro 
tectress,  she  had  found  the  owner  of  her  Dante  and  the  man 
who  had  cursed  her  grandfather  for  his  tardiness.  If  she 
had  only  known  this  one  hour  earlier,  she  would  have  de 
clined  the  offer,  which  once  accepted,  she  knew  not  how  to 
reject,  without  acquainting  Mrs.  Murray  with  the  fact  that 
she  had  overheard  the  conversation ;  and  yet  she  could  not 
endure  the  prospect  of  living  under  the  same  roof  with  a 
man  whom  she  loathed  and  feared.  The  memory  of  the 
blacksmith's  aversion  of  this  stranger  intensified  her  own; 
and  as  she  pondered  in  shame  and  indignation  the  scornful 
and  opprobrious  epithets  which  he  had  bestowed  on  herself, 
she  muttered  through  her  set  teeth : 

"Yes,  Grandy!  he  is  cruel  and  wicked;  and  I  never  can 
bear  to  look  at  or  speak  to  him !  How  dared  he  curse  my 
dear,  dear,  good  grandpa!  How  can  I  ever  be  respectful  to 
him,  when  he  is  not  even  respectful  to  his  own  mother! 
Oh!  I  wish  I  had  never  come  here!  I  shall  always  hate 
him!"  At  this  juncture,  Hagar  entered,  and  lifted  her  back 
to  her  couch;  and,  remarking  the  agitation  of  her  manner, 


ST.  ELMO. 


43 


the  nurse  said  gravely,  as  she  put  her  fingers  on  the  girl's 
pulse: 

"What  has  flushed  you  so?  Your  face  is  hot;  you  have 
tired  yourself  sitting  up  too  long.  Did  a  gentleman  come 
into  the  room  a  while  ago  ?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Murray's  son." 

"Did  Miss  Ellen — that  is,  my  mistress — tell  you  that  you 
were  to  live  here,  and  get  your  education  ?" 

"Yes,  she  offered  to  take  care  of  me  for  a  few  years." 

"Well,  I  am  glad  it  is  fixed,  so — you  can  stay ;  for  you  can 
be  a  great  comfort  to  Miss  Ellen,  if  you  try  to  please  her." 

She  paused,  and  busied  herself  about  the  room,  and  re 
membering  Mrs.  Murray's  injunction  that  she  should  dis 
courage  conversation  on  the  part  of  the  servants,  Edna 
turned  her  face  to  the  wall  and  shut  her  eyes.  But  for  once 
Hagar's  habitual  silence  and  non-committalism  were  laid 
aside ;  and,  stooping  over  the  couch,  she  said  hurriedly : 

"Listen  to  me,  child,  for  I  like  your  patient  ways,  and 
want  to  give  you  a  friendly  warning ;  you  are  a  stranger  in 
this  house,  and  might  stumble  into  trouble.  Whatever  else 
you  do,  be  sure  not  to  cross  Mass'  Elmo's  path !  Keep  out 
of  his  way,  and  he  will  keep  out  of  yours;  for  he  is  shy 
enough  of  strangers,  and  would  walk  a  mile  to  keep  from 
meeting  anybody ;  but  if  he  finds  you  in  his  way,  he  will 
walk  roughshod  right  over  you — trample  you.  Nothing  ever 
stops  him  one  minute  when  he  makes  up  his  mind.  He  does 
not  even  wait  to  listen  to  his  mother,  and  she  is  about  the 
only  person  who  dares  to  talk  to  him.  He  hates  everybody 
and  everything;  but  he  doesn't  tread  on  folks'  toes  unless 
they  are  where  they  don't  belong.  He  is  like  a  rattlesnake 
that  crawls  in  his  own  track,  and  bites  everything  that  med 
dles  or  crosses  his  trail.  Above  everything,  child,  for  the 
love  of  peace  and  heaven,  don't  argue  with  him !  If  he  says 
black  is  white,  don't  contradict  him;  and  if  he  swears  water 
runs  up  stream,  let  him  swear,  and  don't  know  it  runs  down. 
Keep  out  of  his  sight,  and  you  will  do  well  enough,  but  once 
make  him  mad  and  you  had  better  fight  Satan  hand  to  hand 
with  red-hot  pitchforks!  Everybody  is  afraid  of  him,  and 
gives  way  to  him,  and  you  must  do  like  the  balance  that 
have  to  deal  with  him.  I  nursed  him;  but  I  would  rather 
put  my  head  in  a  wolf's  jaws  than  stir  him  up;  and  God 


44 


ST.  ELMO. 


knows  I  wish  he  had  died  when  he  was  a  baby,  instead  of 
living  to  grow  up  the  sinful,  swearing,  raging  devil  he  is! 
Now  mind  what  I  say.  I  am  not  given  to  talking,  but  this 
time  it  is  for  your  good.  Mind  what  I  tell  you,  child ;  and 
if  you  want  to  have  peace,  keep  out  of  his  way." 

She  left  the  room  abruptly,  and  the  orphan  lay  in  the 
gathering  gloom  of  twilight,  perplexed,  distressed,  and 
wondering  how  she  could  avoid  all  the  angularities  of  this 
amiable  character,  under  whose  roof  fate  seemed  to  have 
deposited  her. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AT  length,  by  the  aid  of  crutches,  Edna  was  able  to  leave 
the  room  where  she  had  been  so  long  confined,  and  explore 
the  house  in  which  every  day  discovered  some  new  charm. 
The  parlors  and  sitting-room  opened  on  a  long,  arched 
veranda,  which  extended  around  two  sides  of  the  building, 
and  was  paved  with  variegated  tiles;  while  the  stained- 
glass  doors  of  the  dining-room,  with  its  lofty  frescoed  ceil 
ing  and  deep  bow-windows,  led  by  two  white  marble  steps 
out  on  the  terrace,  whence  two  more  steps  showed  the  be 
ginning  of  a  serpentine  gravel  walk  winding  down  to  an 
octagonal  hot-house,  surmounted  by  a  richly  carved  pagoda- 
roof.  Two  sentinel  statues — a  Bacchus  and  Bacchante — 
placed  on  the  terrace,  guarded  the  entrance  to  the  dining- 
room;  and  in  front  of  the  house,  where  a  sculptured  Triton 
threw  jets  of  water  into  a  gleaming  circular  basin,  a  pair 
of  crouching  monsters  glared  from  the  steps.  When  Edna 
first  found  herself  before  these  grim  doorkeepers,  she 
started  back  in  unfeigned  terror,  and  could  scarcely  repress 
a  cry  of  alarm,  for  the  howling  rage  and  despair  of  the  dis 
torted  hideous  heads  seemed  fearfully  real,  and  years 
elapsed  before  she  comprehended  their  significance,  or  the 
sombre  mood  which  impelled  their  creation.  They  were 
imitations  of  that  monumental  lion's  head,  raised  on  the  bat 
tle-field  of  Chaeroneia,  to  commemorate  the  Boeotians  slain. 
In  the  rear  of  and  adjoining  the  library,  a  narrow,  vaulted 
passage  with  high  Gothic  windows  oi  stained-glass,  opened 
into  a  beautifully  proportioned  rotunda,  and  beyond  this 
circular  apartment  with  its  ruby-tinted  skylight  and 
Moresque  frescoes,  extended  two  other  rooms,  of  whose 
shape  or  contents  Edna  knew  nothing,  save  the  tall  arched 
windows  that  looked  down  on  the  terrace.  The  door  of  the 
rotunda  was  generally  closed,  but  accidentally  it  stood  open 
one  morning,  and  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  circular  form 
and  the  springing  dome.  Evidently  this  portion  of  the  man- 

[45] 


46  ST.  ELMO. 

sion  had  been  recently  built,  while  the  remainder  of  the 
house  had  been  constructed  many  years  earlier;  but  all  de 
sire  to  explore  it  was  extinguished  when  Mrs.  Murray  re 
marked  one  day : 

"That  passage  leads  to  my  son's  apartments,  and  he  dis 
likes  noise  or  intrusion." 

Thenceforth  Edna  avoided  it  as  if  the  plagues  of  Pharaoh 
were  pent  therein.  To  her  dazzled  eyes  this  luxurious 
home  was  a  fairy  palace,  an  enchanted  region,  and,  with 
eager  curiosity  and  boundless  admiration,  she  gazed  upon 
beautiful  articles  whose  use  she  could  not  even  conjecture. 
The  furniture  throughout  the  mansion  was  elegant  and 
costly;  pictures,  statues,  bronzes,  marble,  silver,  rosewood, 
ebony,  mosaics,  satin,  velvet — naught  that  the  most  fas 
tidious  and  cultivated  taste  or  dilettanteism  could  suggest, 
or  lavish  expenditure  supply,  was  wanting ;  while  the  elabor 
ate  and  beautiful  arrangement  of  the  extensive  grounds 
showed  with  how  prodigal  a  hand  the  owner  squandered  a 
princely  fortune.  The  flower  garden  and  lawn  comprised 
fifteen  acres,  and  the  subdivisions  were  formed  entirely  by 
hedges,  save  that  portion  of  the  park  surrounded  by  a  tall 
iron  railing,  where  congregated  a  motley  menagerie  of  deer, 
bison,  a  Lapland  reindeer,  a  Peruvian  llama,  some  Cash 
mere  goats,  a  chamois,  wounded  and  caught  on  the  Jung- 
frau,  and  a  large  white  cow  from  Ava.  This  part  of  the  in- 
closure  was  thickly  studded  with  large  oaks,  groups  of 
beech  and  elm,  and  a  few  enormous  cedars  which  would  not 
have  shamed  their  sacred  prototypes  sighing  in  Syrian 
breezes  along  the  rocky  gorges  of  Lebanon.  The  branches 
were  low  and  spreading,  and  even  at  mid-day  the  sunshine 
barely  freckled  the  cool,  mossy  knolls  where  the  animals 
sought  refuge  from  the  summer  heat  of  the  open  and 
smoothly-shaven  lawn.  Here  and  there,  on  the  soft,  green 
sward,  was  presented  that  vegetable  antithesis,  a  circlet  of 
martinet  poplars  standing  vis-a-vis  to  a  clump  of  willows 
whose  long  hair  threw  quivering,  fringy  shadows  when  the 
slanting  rays  of  dying  sunlight  burnished  the  white  and 
purple  petals  nestling  among  the  clover  tufts.  Rustic  seats 
of  bark,  cane  and  metal  were  scattered  through  the  grounds, 
and  where  the  well-trimmed  numerous  hedges  divided  the 
parterre,  china,  marble  and  iron  vases  of  varied  mould,  held 


ST.  ELMO. 


47 


rare  creepers  and  lovely  exotics;  and  rich  masses  of  roses 
swung  their  fragrant  chalices  of  crimson  and  gold,  rivaling 
the  glory  of  Paestum  and  of  Bendemer.  The  elevation  upon 
which  the  house  was  placed  commanded  an  extensive  view 
of  the  surrounding  country.  Far  away  to  the  northeast 
purplish  gray  waves  along  the  sky  showed  a  range  of  lofty 
hills,  and  in  an  easterly  direction,  scarcely  two  miles  dis 
tant,  glittering  spires  told  where  the  village  clung  to  the 
railroad,  and  to  a  deep  rushing  creek,  whose  sinuous  course 
was  distinctly  marked  by  the  dense  growth  that  clothed  its 
steep  banks.  Now  and  then  luxuriant  fields  of  corn  covered 
the  level  lands  with  an  emerald  mantle,  while  sheep  and 
cattle  roamed  through  the  adjacent  champaign;  and  in  the 
calm,  cool  morning  air,  a  black  smoke-serpent  crawled  above 
the  tree-tops,  mapping  out  the  track  over  which  the  long 
train  of  cars  darted  and  thundered.  Mr.  Paul  Murray,  the 
first  proprietor  of  the  estate,  and  father  of  the  present 
owner,  had  early  in  life  spent  much  time  in  France,  where, 
espousing  the  royalist  cause,  his  sympathies  were  fully  en 
listed  by  the  desperate  daring  of  Charette,  Stofflet,  and  Cath- 
elineau.  On  his  return  to  his  native  land,  his  admiration  of 
the  heroism  of  those  who  dwelt  upon  the  Loire,  found  ex 
pression  in  one  of  their  sobriquets,  "Le  Bocage,"  which  he 
gave  to  his  country  residence;  and  certainly  the  venerable 
groves  that  surrounded  it  justified  the  application.  While 
his  own  fortune  was  handsome  and  abundant,  he  married 
the  orphan  of  a  rich  banker,  who  survived  her  father  only 
a  short  time  and  died  leaving  Mr.  Murray  childless.  After 
a  few  years,  when  the  frosts  of  age  fell  upon  his  head,  he 
married  a  handsome  and  very  wealthy  widow ;  but,  un 
fortunately,  having  lost  their  first  child,  a  daughter,  he 
lived  only  long  enough  to  hear  the  infantile  prattle  of  his 
son,  St.  Elmo,  to  whom  he  bequeathed  an  immense  fortune, 
which  many  succeeding  years  of  reckless  expenditure  had 
failed  to  materially  impair.  Such  was  "Le  Bocage,"  na 
turally  a  beautiful  situation,  improved  and  embellished  with 
everything  which  refined  taste  and  world-wide  travel  could 
suggest  to  the  fastidious  owner.  Notwithstanding  the 
countless  charms  of  the  home  so  benevolently  offered  to  her, 
the  blacksmith's  granddaughter  was  conscious  of  a  great 
need,  scarcely  to  be  explained,  yet  fully  felt — the  dreary 


48  ST.  ELMO. 

lack  of  that  which  she  had  yet  to  learn  could  not  be  pur 
chased  by  the  treasures  of  Oude — the  priceless  peace  and 
genial  glow  which  only  the  contented,  happy  hearts  of  its 
inmates  can  diffuse  over  even  a  palatial  homestead.  She 
also  realized,  without  analyzing  the  fact,  that  the  majestic 
repose  and  boundless  spontaneity  of  nature  yielded  a  sense 
of  companionship  almost  of  tender,  dumb  sympathy,  which 
all  the  polished  artificialities  and  recherche  arrangements  of 
man  utterly  failed  to  supply.  While  dazzled  by  the  glitter 
and  splendor  of  "Le  Bocage,"  she  shivered  in  its  silent 
dreariness,  its  cold,  aristocratic  formalism,  and  she  yearned 
for  the  soft,  musical  babble  of  the  spring-branch,  where, 
standing  ankle-deep  in  water  under  the  friendly  shadow  of 
Lookout,  she  had  spent  long,  blissful  July  days  in  striving 
to  build  a  wall  of  rounded  pebbles  down  which  the  crystal 
ripples  would  fall,  a  miniature  Talulah  or  Tuccoa.  The 
chrism  of  nature  had  anointed  her  early  life  and  consecrated 
her  heart,  but  fate  brought  her  to  the  vestibule  of  the  temple 
of  Mammon,  and  its  defiling  incense  floated  about  her.  How 
long  would  the  consecration  last?  As  she  slowly  limped 
about  the  house  and  grounds,  acquainting  herself  with  the 
details,  she  was  impressed  with  the  belief  that  happiness  had 
once  held  her  court  here,  had  been  dethroned,  exiled  and 
now  waited  beyond  the  confines  of  the  park,  anxious  but 
unable  to  renew  her  reign  and  expel  usurping  gloom.  For 
some  weeks  after  her  arrival  she  took  her  meals  in  her  own 
room,  and  having  learned  to  recognize  the  hasty,  heavy 
tread  of  the  dreaded  master  of  the  house,  she  invariably  fled 
from  the  sound  of  his  steps  as  she  would  have  shunned  an 
ogre;  consequently  her  knowledge  of  him  was  limited  to  the 
brief  inspection  and  uncomplimentary  conversation  which 
introduced  him  to  her  acquaintance  on  the  day  of  his  return. 
Her  habitual  avoidance  and  desire  of  continued  concealment 
was,  however,  summarily  thwarted  when  Mrs.  Murray  came 
into  her  room  late  one  night,  and  asked  : 

"Did  not  I  see  you  walking  this  afternoon  without  your 
crutches  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  was  trying  to  see  if  I  could  not  do  without 
them  entirely." 

"Did  the  experiment  cause  you  any  pain  ?" 

"No  pain  exactly,  but  I  find  my  ankle  still  weak." 


ST.  ELMO.  49 

"Be  careful  not  to  overstrain  it;  by  degrees  it  will 
strengthen  if  you  use  it  moderately.  By  the  by,  you  are 
now  well  enough  to  come  to  the  table;  and  from  breakfast 
to-morrow  you  will  take  your  meals  with  us  in  the  dining- 
room." 

A  shiver  of  apprehension  seized  Edna,  and  in  a  fright 
ened  tone  she  ejaculated: 

"Ma'am !" 

"I  say,  in  future  you  will  eat  at  the  table  instead  of  here 
in  this  room." 

"If  you  please,  Mrs.  Murray,  I  would  rather  stay  here." 

"Pray,  what  possible  objection  can  you  have  to  the  din 
ing-room  ?" 

Edna  averted  her  head,  but  wrung  her  fingers  nervously. 

Mrs.  Murray  frowned,  and  continued  gravely : 

"Don't  be  silly,  Edna.  It  is  proper  that  you  should  go  to 
the  table,  and  learn  to  eat  with  a  fork  instead  of  a  knife. 
You  need  not  be  ashamed  to  meet  people;  there  is  nothing 
clownish  about  you  unless  you  affect  it.  Good-night ;  I  shall 
see  you  at  breakfast ;  the  bell  rings  at  eight  o'clock." 

There  was  no  escape,  and  she  awoke  next  morning  op 
pressed  with  the  thought  of  the  ordeal  that  awaited  her. 
She  dressed  herself  even  more  carefully  than  usual,  despite 
the  trembling  of  her  hands;  and  when  the  ringing  of  the 
little  silver  bell  summoned  her  to  the  dining-room,  her  heart 
seemed  to  stand  still.  But  though  exceedingly  sensitive  and 
shy,  Edna  was  brave,  and  even  self-possessed,  and  she 
promptly  advanced  to  meet  the  trial. 

Entering  the  room,  she  saw  that  her  benefactress  had  not 
yet  come  in,  but  was  approaching  the  house  with  a  basket 
of  flowers  in  her  hand;  and  one  swift  glance  around  dis 
covered  Mr.  Murray  standing  at  the  window.  Unobserved, 
she  scanned  the  tall,  powerful  figure  clad  in  a  suit  of  white 
linen,  and  saw  that  he  wore  no  beard  save  the  heavy  but 
closely-trimmed  moustache,  which  now,  in  some  degree,  con 
cealed  the  harshness  about  the  handsome  mouth.  Only  his 
profile  was  turned  toward  her,  and  she  noticed  that,  while 
his  forehead  was  singularly  white,  his  cheeks  and  chin  were 
thoroughly  bronzed  from  exposure. 

As  Mrs.  Murray  came  in,  she  nodded  to  her  young 
protegee,  and  approached  the  table,  saying : 


50  ST.  ELMO. 

"Good  morning!  It  seems  I  am  the  laggard  to-day,  but 
Nicholas  had  mislaid  the  flower  shears,  and  detained  me. 
Hereafter  I  shall  turn  over  this  work  of  dressing  vases  to 
you,  child.  My  son,  this  is  your  birthday,  and  here  is  your 
button-hole  souvenir." 

She  fastened  a  few  sprigs  of  white  jasmine  in  his  linen 
coat,  and,  as  he  thanked  her  briefly,  and  turned  to  the  table, 
she  said,  with  marked  emphasis: 

"St.  Elmo,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Edna  Earl." 

He  looked  around,  and  fixed  his  keen  eyes  on  the  orphan, 
whose  cheeks  crimsoned  as  she  looked  down  and  said,  quite 
distinctly : 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Murray." 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Earl." 

"No,  I  protest!  'Miss  Earl,'  indeed!  Call  the  child 
Edna." 

"As  you  please,  mother,  provided  you  do  not  let  the  coffee 
and  chocolate  get  cold  while  you  decide  the  momentous  ques 
tion." 

Neither  spoke  again  for  some  time,  and  in  the  embar 
rassing  silence  Edna  kept  her  eyes  on  the  china,  wondering 
if  all  their  breakfasts  would  be  like  this.  At  last  Mr.  Mur 
ray  pushed  away  his  large  coffee-cup,  and  said  abruptly : 

"After  all,  it  is  only  one  year  to-day  since  I  came  back  to 
America,  though  it  seems  much  longer.  It  will  soon  be 
time  to  prepare  for  my  trip  to  the  South  Sea  Islands.  The 
stagnation  here  is  intolerable." 

An  expression  of  painful  surprise  flitted  across  the 
mother's  countenance,  but  she  answered  quickly : 

"It  has  been  an  exceedingly  short,  happy  year  to  me. 
You  are  such  a  confirmed  absentee,  that  when  you  are  at 
home,  time  slips  by  unnoticed." 

"But  few  and  far  between  as  my  visits  are,  they  certainly 
never  approach  the  angelic.  'Welcome  the  coming,  speed 
the  parting  guest,'  must  frequently  recur  to  you." 

Before  his  mother  could  reply  he  rose,  ordered  his  horse, 
and  as  he  drew  on  his  gloves,  and  left  the  room,  looked 
over  his  shoulder,  saying  indifferently,  "That  box  of  pic 
tures  from  Munich  is  at  the  warehouse;  I  directed  Henry 
to  go  after  it  this  morning.  I  will  open  it  when  I  come 
home." 


ST.  ELMO.  51 

A  moment  after  he  passed  the  window  on  horseback,  and 
with  a  heavy  sigh  Mrs.  Murray  dropped  her  head  on  her 
hand,  compressing  her  lips,  and  toying  abstractedly  with  the 
sugar-tongs. 

Edna  watched  the  grave,  troubled  countenance  for  some 
seconds,  and  then  putting  her  hand  on  the  flower-basket,  she 
asked  softly: 

"Shall  I  dress  the  flower-pots?" 

"Yes,  child,  in  four  rooms;  this,  the  parlors,  and  the 
library.  Always  cut  the  flowers  very  early,  while  the  dew 
is  on  them." 

Her  eyes  went  back  to  the  sugar-tongs,  and  Edna  joy 
fully  escaped  from  a  room  whose  restraints  and  associa 
tions  were  irksome. 

Impressed  by  Hagar's  vehement  adjuration  to  keep  out 
of  Mr.  Murray's  path,  she  avoided  those  portions  of  the 
house  to  which  he  seemed  most  partial,  and  thus  although 
they  continued  to  meet  at  meals,  no  words  passed  between 
them,  after  that  brief  salutation  on  the  morning  of  presen 
tation.  Very  often  she  was  painfully  conscious  that  his 
searching  eyes  scrutinized  her;  but  though  the  blood 
mounted  instantly  to  her  cheeks  at  such  times,  she  never 
looked  up — dreading  his  gaze  as  she  would  that  of  a  basilisk. 
One  sultry  afternoon  she  went  into  the  park,  and  threw  her 
self  down  on  the  long  grass,  under  a  clump  of  cedars,  near 
which  the  deer  and  bison  were  quietly  browsing,  while  the 
large  white  merinoes  huddled  in  the  shade  and  blinked  at 
the  sun.  Opening  a  pictorial  history  of  England,  which  she 
had  selected  from  the  library,  she  spread  it  on  the  grass, 
and  leaning  her  face  in  her  palms,  rested  her  elbows  on  the 
ground,  and  began  to  read.  Now  and  then  she  paused  as 
she  turned  a  leaf,  to  look  around  at  the  beautiful  animals, 
each  one  of  which  might  have  served  as  a  model  for  Land- 
seer  or  Rosa  Bonheur.  Gradually  the  languor  of  the  at 
mosphere  stole  into  her  busy  brain;  as  the  sun  crept  down 
the  sky,  her  eyelids  sunk  with  it,  and  very  soon  she  was 
fast  asleep,  with  her  head  on  the  book,  and  her  cheeks 
flushed  almost  to  a  vermilion  hue.  From  that  brief  summer 
dream  she  was  aroused  by  some  sudden  noise,  and  starting 
up,  she  saw  the  sheep  bounding  far  away,  while  a  large, 
gaunt,  wolfish,  grey  dog  snuffed  at  her  hands  and  face. 


52  ST.  ELMO. 

Once  before  she  had  seen  him  chained  near  the  stables,  and 
Hagar  told  her  he  was  "very  dangerous,"  and  was  never 
loosed  except  at  night;  consequently,  the  expression  of  his 
fierce,  red  eyes,  as  he  stood  over  her,  was  well  calculated  to 
alarm  her;  but  at  that  instant  Mr.  Murray's  voice  thun 
dered  : 

"Keep  still!  don't  move!  or  you  will  be  torn  to  pieces!" 
Then  followed  some  rapid  interjections  and  vehement  words 
in  the  same  unintelligible  dialect  which  had  so  puzzled  her 
once  before,  when  her  grandfather  could  not  control  the 
horse  he  was  attempting  to  shoe.  The  dog  was  sullen  and 
unmanageable,  keeping  his  black  muzzle  close  to  her  face, 
and  she  grew  pale  with  terror  as  she  noticed  that  his  shaggy 
breast  and  snarling  jaws  were  dripping  with  blood. 

Leaping  from  his  horse,  Mr.  Murray  strode  up,  and  with  a 
quick  movement  seized  the  heavy  brass  collar  of  the  savage 
creature,  hurled  him  back  on  his  haunches,  and  held  him 
thus,  giving  vent  the  while  to  a  volley  of  oaths. 

Pointing  to  a  large,  half-decayed  elm  branch,  lying  at  a 
little  distance,  he  tightened  his  grasp  on  the  collar,  and  said 
to  the  still  trembling  girl : 

"Bring  me  that  stick,  yonder." 

Edna  complied,  and  there  ensued  a  scene  of  cursing, 
thrashing,  and  howling,  that  absolutely  sickened  her.  The 
dog  writhed,  leaped,  whined,  and  snarled ;  but  the  iron  hold 
was  not  relaxed,  and  the  face  of  the  master  rivaled  in  rage 
that  of  the  brute,  which  seemed  as  ferocious  as  the  hounds 
of  Gian  Maria  Visconti,  fed  with  human  flesh,  by  Squarcia 
Giramo.  Distressed  by  the  severity  and  duration  of  the 
punishment,  and  without  pausing  to  reflect,  or  to  remember 
Hagar's  warning,  Edna  interposed : 

"Oh!  please  don't  whip  him  any  more!  It  is  cruel  to 
beat  him  so!" 

Probably  he  did  not  hear  her,  and  the  blows  fell  thicker 
than  before.  She  drew  near,  and,  as  the  merciless  arm  was 
raised  to  strike,  she  seized  it  with  both  hands,  and  swung 
on  with  her  whole  weight,  repeating  her  words.  If  one  of 
his  meek,  frightened  sheep  had  sprung  at  his  throat  to 
throttle  him,  Mr.  Murray  would  not  have  been  more  as 
tounded.  He  shook  her  off,  threw  her  from  him,  but  she 
carried  the  stick  in  her  grasp. 


ST.  ELMO.  53 

"D — n  you!  how  dare  you  interfere!  What  is  it  to  you 
if  I  cut  his  throat,  which  I  mean  to  do !" 

"That  will  be  cruel  and  sinful,  for  he  does  not  know  it  is 
wrong;  and  besides,  he  did  not  bite  me." 

She  spoke  resolutely,  and  for  the  first  time  ventured  to 
look  straight  into  his  flashing  eyes. 

"Did  not  bite  you !  Did  not  he  worry  down  and  mangle 
one  of  my  finest  Southdowns?  It  would  serve  you  right 
for  your  impertinent  meddling,  if  I  let  him  tear  you  limb 
from  limb!" 

"He  knows  no  better,"  she  answered,  firmly. 

"Then,  by  G— d,  I  will  teach  him !    Hand  me  that  stick !" 

"Oh!  please,  Mr.  Murray!  You  have  nearly  put  out 
one  of  his  eyes  already!" 

"Give  me  the  stick,  I  tell  you,  or  I " 

He  did  not  finish  the  threat,  but  held  out  his  hand  with 
a  peremptory  gesture. 

Edna  gave  one  swift  glance  around,  saw  that  there  were 
no  other  branches  within  reach,  saw  too  that  the  dog's  face 
was  swelling  and  bleeding  from  its  bruises,  and,  bending 
the  stick  across  her  knee,  she  snapped  it  into  three  pieces, 
which  she  threw  as  far  as  her  strength  would  permit.  There 
was  a  brief  pause,  broken  only  by  the  piteous  howling  of  the 
suffering  creature,  and,  as  she  began  to  realize  what  she  had 
done,  Edna's  face  reddened,  and  she  put  her  hands  over  her 
eyes  to  shut  out  the  vision  of  the  enraged  man,  who  was 
absolutely  dumb  with  indignant  astonishment.  Presently  a 
sneering  laugh  caused  her  to  look  through  her  fingers,  and 
she  saw  "Ali,"  the  dog,  now  released,  fawning  and  whining 
at  his  master's  feet. 

"Aha!  The  way  of  all  natures,  human  as  well  as  brute. 
Pet  and  fondle  and  pamper  them,  they  turn  under  your 
caressing  hand  and  bite  you;  but  bruise  and  trample  them, 
and  instantly  they  are  on  their  knees  licking  the  feet  that 
kicked  them.  Begone !  you  bloodthirsty  devil !  I'll  settle 
the  account  at  the  kennel.  Buffon  is  a  fool,  and  Pennant 
was  right  after  all.  The  blood  of  the  jackal  pricks  up  your 
ears." 

He  spurned  the  crouching  culprit,  and  as  it  slunk  away 
in  the  direction  of  the  house,  Edna  found  herself  alone,  face 
to  face  with  the  object  of  her  aversion,  and  she  almost 


54  ST.  ELMO. 

wished  that  the  earth  would  open  and  swallow  her.  Mr. 
Murray  came  close  to  her,  held  her  hands  down  with  one 
of  his,  and  placing  the  other  under  her  chin,  forced  her  to 
look  at  him. 

"How  dare  you  defy  and  disobey  me?" 

"I  did  not  defy  you,  sir,  but  I  could  not  help  you  to  do 
what  was  wrong  and  cruel." 

"I  am  the  judge  of  my  actions,  and  neither  ask  your  help 
nor  intend  to  permit  your  interference  with  what  does  not 
concern  you." 

"God  is  the  judge  of  mine,  sir,  and  if  I  had  obeyed  you, 
I  should  have  been  guilty  of  all  you  wished  to  do  with  that 
stick.  I  don't  want  to  interfere,  sir.  I  try  to  keep  out  of 
your  way,  and  I  am  very  sorry  I  happened  to  come  here  this 
evening.  I  did  not  dream  of  meeting  you;  I  thought  you 
had  gone  to  town." 

He  read  all  her  aversion  in  her  eyes,  which  strove  to 
avoid  his,  and  smiling  gently,  he  continued :  "You  evidently 
think  that  I  am  the  very  devil  himself,  walking  the  earth 
like  a  roaring  lion.  Mind  your  own  affairs  hereafter,  and 
when  I  give  you  a  positive  order,  obey  it,  for  I  am  master 
here,  and  my  word  is  law.  Meddling  or  disobedience  I 
neither  tolerate  nor  forgive.  Do  you  understand  me?" 

"I  shall  not  meddle,  sir." 

"That  means  that  you  will  not  obey  me  unless  you  think 
proper  ?" 

She  was  silent,  and  her  beautiful  soft  eyes  rilled  with 
tears. 

"Answer  me !" 

"I  have  nothing  to  say  that  you  would  like  to  hear." 

"What?    Out  with  it!" 

"You  would  have  a  right  to  think  me  impertinent  if  I 
said  any  more." 

"No,  I  swear  I  will  not  devour  you,  say  what  you  may." 

She  shook  her  head,  and  the  motion  brought  two  tears 
down  on  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,  you  are  one  of  the  stubborn  sweet  saints,  whose  lips 
even  Torquemada's  red-hot  steel  ringers  could  not  open. 
Child,  do  you  hate  or  dread  me  most?  Answer  that  ques 
tion." 

He  took  his  own  handkerchief  and  wiped  away  the  tears. 


ST.  ELMO. 


55 


"I  am  sorry  for  you,  sir,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

He  threw  his  head  back  and  laughed  heartily. 

"Sorry  for  me!  For  me!  Me?  The  owner  of  as  many 
thousands  as  there  are  hairs  on  your  head !  Keep  your  pity 
for  your  poverty-stricken  vagrant  self!  Why  the  deuce  are 
you  sorry  for  me  ?" 

She  withdrew  her  hands,  which  he  seemed  to  hold  un 
consciously,  and  answered: 

"Because,  with  all  your  money,  you  never  will  be  happy." 

"And  what  the  d — 1  do  I  care  for  happiness?  I  am  not 
such  a  fool  as  to  expect  it;  and  yet  after  all,  'Out  of  the 
mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings.'  Pshaw!  I  am  a  fool 
nevertheless  to  waste  words  on  you.  Stop!  What  do  you 
think  of  my  park,  and  the  animals?  I  notice  you  often 
come  here." 

"The  first  time  I  saw  it  I  thought  of  Noah  and  the  ark, 
with  two  of  every  living  thing;  but  an  hour  ago  it  seemed 
to  me  more  like  the  garden  of  Eden,  where  the  animals  all 
lay  down  together  in  peace,  before  sin  came  into  it." 

"And  AH  and  I  entered,  like  Satan,  and  completed  the 
vision?  Thank  you,  considering  the  fact  that  you  are  on 
my  premises,  and  know  something  of  my  angelic,  sanctified 
temper,  I  must  say  you  indulge  in  bold  flights  of  imagery." 

"I  did  not  say  that,  sir." 

"You  thought  it  nevertheless.  Don't  be  hypocritical !  Is 
not  that  what  you  thought  of?" 

She  made  no  reply,  and  anxious  to  terminate  an  interview 
painfully  embarrassing  to  her,  stepped  forward  to  pick  up 
the  history  which  lay  on  the  grass. 

"What  book  is  that?" 

She  handed  it  to  him,  and  the  leaves  happened  to  open 
at  a  picture  representing  the  murder  of  Becket.  A  scowl 
blackened  his  face  as  he  glanced  at  it,  and  turned  away, 
muttering : 

"Malice  prepense !  or  the  devil !" 

At  a  little  distance,  leisurely  cropping  the  long  grass, 
stood  his  favorite  horse,  whose  arched  forehead  and  peculiar 
mouse-color  proclaimed  his  unmistakable  descent  from  the 
swift  hordes  that  scour  the  Kirghise  steppes,  and  sanctioned 
the  whim  which  induced  his  master  to  call  him  "Tamerlane." 
As  Mr.  Murray  approached  his  horse,  Edna  walked  away 


56  ST.  ELMO. 

toward  the  house,  fearing  that  he  might  overtake  her;  but 
no  sound  of  hoofs  reached  her  ears,  and  looking  back  as 
she  crossed  the  avenue  and  entered  the  flower-garden,  she 
saw  horse  and  rider  standing  where  she  left  them,  and  won 
dered  why  Mr.  Murray  was  so  still,  with  one  arm  on  the 
neck  of  his  Tartar  pet,  and  his  own  head  bent  down  on  his 
hand. 

In  reflecting  upon  what  had  occurred,  she  felt  her  repug 
nance  increase,  and  began  to  think  that  they  could  not  live 
in  the  same  house  without  continual  conflicts,  which  would 
force  her  to  abandon  the  numerous  advantages  now  within 
her  grasp.  The  only  ray  of  hope  darted  through  her  mind 
when  she  recalled  his  allusion  to  a  contemplated  visit  to  the 
South  Sea  Islands,  and  the  possibility  of  his  long  absence. 
Insensibly  her  dislike  of  the  owner  extended  to  everything 
he  handled,  and  much  as  she  had  enjoyed  the  perusal  of 
Dante,  she  determined  to  lose  no  time  in  restoring  the  lost 
volume,  which  she  felt  well  assured  his  keen  eyes  would 
recognize  the  first  time  she  inadvertently  left  it  in  the 
library  or  the  greenhouse.  The  doubt  of  her  honesty,  which 
he  had  expressed  to  his  mother,  rankled  in  the  orphan's 
memory,  and  for  some  days  she  had  been  nerving  herself  to 
anticipate  a  discovery  of  the  book  by  voluntarily  restoring 
it.  The  rencontre  in  the  park  by  no  means  diminished  her 
dread  of  addressing  him  on  this  subject;  but  she  resolved 
that  the  rendition  of  Caesar's  things  to  Caesar  should  take 
place  that  evening  before  she  slept. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  narrow,  vaulted  passage  leading  to  Mr.  Murray's 
suit  of  rooms  was  dim  and  gloomy  when  Edna  approached 
the  partly  opened  door  of  the  rotunda,  whence  issued  a 
stream  of  light.  Timidly  she  crossed  the  threshold  and 
stood  within  on  the  checkered  floor,  whose  polished  tiles 
glistened  under  the  glare  of  gas  from  bronze  brackets  repre 
senting  Telamones,  that  stood  at  regular  intervals  around 
the  apartment.  The  walls  were  painted  in  Saracenic  style, 
and  here  and  there  hung  specimens  of  Oriental  armor — 
Turcoman  cimeters,  Damascus  swords,  Bedouin  lances,  and 
a  crimson  silk  flag,  with  heavy  gold  fringe,  surmounted  by 
a  crescent.  The  cornice  of  the  lofty  arched  ceiling  was 
elaborately  arabesque,  and  as  Edna  looked  up  she  saw 
through  the  glass  roof  the  flickering  of  stars  in  the  summer 
sky.  In  the  centre  of  the  room,  immediately  under  the 
dome,  stretched  a  billiard-table,  and  near  it  was  a  circular 
one  of  black  marble,  inlaid  with  red  onyx  and  lapis  lazuli, 
which  formed  a  miniature  zodiac  similar  to  that  at  Den- 
derah,  while  in  the  middle  of  this  table  sat  a  small  Murano 
hour-glass,  filled  with  sand  from  the  dreary  valley  of  El 
Ghor.  A  huge  plaster  Trimurti  stood  close  to  the  wall,  on 
a  triangular  pedestal  of  black  rock,  and  the  Siva- face  and 
the  writhing  cobra  confronted  all  who  entered.  Just  op 
posite  grinned  a  red  granite  slab  with  a  quaint  basso-relievo 
taken  from  the  ruins  of  Elora.  Near  the  door  were  two 
silken  divans,  and  a  richly  carved  urn,  three  feet  high,  which 
had  once  ornamented  the  facade  of  a  tomb  in  the  royal 
days  of  Petra,  ere  the  curse  fell  on  Edom,  now  stood  an  in 
mcmoriam  of  the  original  Necropolis.  For  what  purpose 
this  room  was  designed  or  used  Edna  could  not  imagine, 
and  after  a  hasty  survey  of  its  singular  furniture,  she 
crossed  the  rotunda,  and  knocked  at  the  door  that  stood 
slightly  ajar.  All  was  silent;  but  the  smell  of  a  cigar  told 
her  that  the  owner  was  within,  and  she  knocked  once  more. 

"Come  in." 

[571 


58  ST.  ELMO. 

"I  don't  wish  to  come  in ;  I  only  want  to  hand  you  some 
thing." 

"Oh !  the  deuce  you  don't !  But  I  never  meet  people  even 
half-way,  so  come  in  you  must,  if  you  have  anything  to  say 
to  me.  I  have  neither  blue  blazes  nor  pitchforks  about  me, 
and  you  will  be  safe  inside.  I  give  you  my  word  there  are 
no  small  devils  shut  up  here,  to  fly  away  with  whomsoever 
peeps  in !  Either  enter,  I  say,  or  be  off." 

The  temptation  was  powerful  to  accept  the  alternative; 
but  as  he  had  evidently  recognized  her  voice,  she  pushed 
open  the  door  and  reluctantly  entered.  It  was  a  long  room, 
and  at  the  end  were  two  beautiful  fluted  white  marble  pil 
lars,  supporting  a  handsome  arch,  where  hung  heavy  cur 
tains  of  crimson  Persian  silk,  that  were  now  partly  looped 
back,  showing  the  furniture  of  the  sleeping  apartment  be 
yond  the  richly  carved  arch.  For  a  moment  the  bright  light 
dazzled  the  orphan,  and  she  shaded  her  eyes;  but  the  next 
instant  Mr.  Murray  rose  from  a  sofa  near  the  window,  and 
advanced  a  step  or  two,  taking  the  cigar  from  his  lips. 

"Come  to  the  window  and  take  a  seat." 

He  pointed  to  the  sofa;  but  she  shook  her  head,  and  said 
quickly : 

"I  have  something  which  belongs  to  you,  Mr.  Murray, 
which  I  think  you  must  value  very  much,  and  therefore  I 
wanted  to  see  it  safe  in  your  own  hands." 

Without  raising  her  eyes  she  held  the  book  toward  him. 

"What  is  it?" 

He  took  it  mechanically,  and  with  his  gaze  fixed  on  the 
girl's  face;  but  as  she  made  no  reply,  he  glanced  down  at 
it,  arid  his  stern,  swarthy  face  lighted  up  joyfully. 

"Is  it  possible?  my  Dante!  my  lost  Dante!  The  copy 
that  has  travelled  round  the  world  in  my  pocket,  and  that 
I  lost  a  year  ago,  somewhere  in  the  mountains  of  Tennessee ! 
Girl,  where  did  you  get  it?" 

"I  found  it  where  you  left  it — on  the  grass  near  a  black 
smith's  shop." 

"A  blacksmith's  shop !  where  ?" 

"Near  Chattanooga.  Don't  you  remember  the  sign,  un 
der  the  horse-shoe,  over  the  door,  'Aaron  Hunt'  ?" 

"No ;  but  who  was  Aaron  Hunt  ?" 


ST.  ELMO. 


59 


For  nearly  a  minute  Edna  struggled  for  composure,  and 
looking  suddenly  up,  said  falteringly : 

"He  was  my  grandfather — the  only  person  in  the  world 
I  had  to  care  for,  or  to  love  me — and — sir " 

"Well,  go  on." 

"You  cursed  him  because  your  horse  fretted,  and  he  could 
not  shoe  him  in  five  minutes." 

"Humph !" 

There  was  an  awkward  silence;  St.  Elmo  Murray  bit  his 
lip  and  scowled,  and,  recovering  her  self-control,  the  orphan 
added : 

"You  put  your  shawl  and  book  on  the  ground,  and  when 
you  started  you  forgot  them.  I  called  you  back  and  gave 
you  your  shawl;  but  I  did  not  see  the  book  for  some  time 
after  you  rode  out  of  sight." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  remember  now  about  the  shawl  and  the  shop. 
Strange  I  did  not  recognize  you  before.  But  how  did  you 
learn  that  the  book  was  mine  ?" 

"I  did  not  know  it  was  yours  until  I  came  here  by  acci 
dent,  and  heard  Mrs.  Murray  call  your  name ;  then  I  knew 
that  the  initials  written  in  the  book  spelt  your  name.  And 
besides,  I  remembered  your  figure  and  your  voice." 

Again  there  was  a  pause,  and  her  mission  ended,  Edna 
turned  to  go. 

"Stop !  Why  did  you  not  give  it  to  me  when  you  first 
came?" 

She  made  no  reply,  and  putting  his  hand  on  hci  shoulder 
to  detain  her,  he  said,  more  gently  than  she  had  ever  heard 
him  speak  to  any  one: 

"Was  it  because  you  loved  my  book  and  disliked  to  part 
with  it,  or  was  it  because  you  feared  to  come  and  speak  to 
a  man  whom  you  hate?  Be  truthful." 

Still  she  was  silent,  and  raising  her  face  with  his  palm, 
as  he  had  done  in  the  park,  he  continued  in  the  same  low, 
sweet  voice,  which  she  could  scarcely  believe  belonged  to 
him: 

"I  am  waiting  for  your  answer,  and  I  intend  to  have  it." 

Her  large,  sad  eyes  were  brimming  with  precious 
memories,  as  she  lifted  them  steadily  to  meet  his,  and  an 
swered  : 


60  ST.  ELMO. 

"My  grandfather  was  noble  and  good,  and  he  was  all  I 
had  in  this  world." 

"And  you  can  not  forgive  a  man  who  happened  to  be  rude 
to  him?" 

"If  you  please,  Mr.  Murray,  I  would  rather  go  now.  I 
have  given  you  your  book,  and  that  is  all  I  came  for." 

"Which  means  that  you  are  afraid  of  me,  and  want  to 
get  out  of  my  sight?" 

She  did  not  deny  it,  but  her  face  flushed  painfully. 

"Edna  Earl,  you  are  at  least  honest  and  truthful,  and 
those  are  rare  traits  at  the  present  day.  I  thank  you  for 
preserving  and  returning  my  Dante.  Did  you  read  any  of 
it?" 

"Yes,  sir,  all  of  it.    Good-night,  sir." 

"Wait  a  moment.    When  did  Aaron  Hunt  die?" 

"Two  months  after  you  saw  him." 

"You  have  no  relatives?     No  cousins,  uncles,  aunts?" 

"None  that  I  ever  heard  of.    I  must  go,  sir." 

"Good-night,  child.  For  the  present,  when  you  go  out  in 
the  grounds,  be  sure  that  wolf,  Ali,  is  chained  up,  or  you 
may  be  sorry  that  I  did  not  cut  his  throat,  as  I  am  still  in 
clined  to  do." 

She  closed  the  door,  ran  lightly  across  the  rotunda,  and 
regaining  her  own  room,  felt  inexpressibly  relieved  that  the 
ordeal  was  over — that  in  future  there  remained  no  necessity 
for  her  to  address  one  whose  very  tones  made  her  shudder, 
and  the  touch  of  whose  hand  filled  her  with  vague  dread  and 
loathing. 

When  the  echo  of  her  retreating  footsteps  died  away,  St. 
Elmo  threw  his  cigar  out  of  the  window,  and  walked  up  and 
down  the  quaint  and  elegant  rooms,  whose  costly  bisarrerie 
would  more  appropriately  have  adorned  a  villa  of  Parthe- 
nope  or  Lucanian  Sybaris,  than  a  country-house  in  soi-disant 
"republican"  America.  The  floor,  covered  in  winter  with 
velvet  carpet,  was  of  white  and  black  marble,  now  bare  and 
polished  as  a  mirror,  reflecting  the  figure  of  the  owner  as  he 
crossed  it.  Oval  ormolu  tables,  buhl  chairs,  and  oaken  and 
marquetrie  cabinets,  loaded  with  cameos,  intaglios,  Ab- 
raxoids,  whose  "erudition"  would  have  filled  Mnesarchus 
with  envy,  and  challenged  the  admiration  of  the  Samian 
lapidary  who  engraved  the  ring  of  Polycrates;  these  and 


ST.  ELMO.  6l 

numberless  articles  of  vertu  testified  to  the  universality  of 
what  St.  Elmo  called  his  "world-scrapings,"  and  to  the  reck 
less  extravagance  and  archaistic  taste  of  the  collector.  On 
a  verd-antique  table  lay  a  satin  cushion  holding  a  vellum 
MS.,  bound  in  blue  velvet,  whose  uncial  letters  were  written 
in  purple  ink,  powdered  with  gold-dust,  while  the  margins 
were  stiff  with  gilded  illuminations;  and  near  the  cushion, 
as  if  prepared  to  shed  light  on  the  curious  cryptography, 
stood  an  exquisite  white  glass  lamp,  shaped  like  a  vase,  and 
richly  ornamented  with  Arabic  inscriptions  in  ultra-marine 
blue — a  precious  relic  of  some  ruined  Laura  in  the  Nitrian 
desert,  by  the  aid  of  whose  rays  the  hoary  hermits,  whom 
St.  Macarius  ruled,  broke  the  midnight  gloom  chanting, 
"Kyrie  eleison,  Christe  eleison,"  fourteen  hundred  years  be 
fore  St.  Elmo's  birth.  Immediately  opposite,  on  an  em 
bossed  ivory  stand,  and  protected  from  air  and  dust  by  a 
glass  case,  were  two  antique  goblets,  one  of  green-veined 
agate,  one  of  blood-red  onyx;  and  into  the  coating  of  wax, 
spread  along  the  ivory  slab,  were  inserted  amphorss,  one  dry 
and  empty,  the  other  a  third  full  of  Falerian,  whose  topaz 
drops  had  grown  strangely  mellow  and  golden  in  the  ashy 
cellars  of  Hcrculaneum,  and  had  doubtless  been  destined 
for  some  luxurious  triclinium  in  the  days  of  Titus.  A  small 
Byzantine  picture,  painted  on  wood,  with  a  silver  frame  or 
namented  with  cornelian  stars,  and  the  background  heavily 
gilded,  hung  over  an  etaghe,  where  lay  a  leaf  from  Ne 
buchadnezzar's  diary,  one  of  those  Babylonish  bricks  on 
which  his  royal  name  was  stamped.  Near  it  stood  a  pair 
of  Bohemian  vases  representing  the  two  varieties  of  lotus — 
one  velvety  white  with  rose-colored  veins,  the  other  with 
delicate  blue  petals.  This  latter  whim  had  cost  a  vast 
amount  of  time,  trouble,  and  money,  it  having  been  found 
difficult  to  carefully  preserve,  sketch,  and  paint  them  for  the 
manufacturer  in  Bohemia,  who  had  never  seen  the  holy 
lotus,  and  required  specimens.  But  the  indomitable  will  of 
the  man,  to  whose  wishes  neither  oceans  nor  deserts  op 
posed  successful  barriers,  finally  triumphed,  and  the  coveted 
treasures  fully  repaid  their  price  as  they  glistened  in  the 
gaslight,  perfect  as  their  prototypes  slumbering  on  the 
bosom  of  the  Nile,  under  the  blazing  midnight  stars  of  rain 
less  Egypt.  Several  handsome  rosewood  cases  were  filled 


62  ST.  ELMO. 

with  rare  books — two  in  Pali — centuries  old;  and  moth- 
eaten  volumes  and  valuable  MSS. — some  in  parchment,  some 
bound  in  boards — recalled  the  days  of  astrology  and  al 
chemy,  and  the  sombre  mysteries  of  Rosicrucianism.  Side 
by  side,  on  an  ebony  stand,  lay  an  Elzevir  Terence,  printed 
in  red  letters,  and  a  curious  Birman  book,  whose  pages  con 
sisted  of  thin  leaves  of  ivory,  gilded  at  the  edges;  and  here 
too  were  black  rhyta  from  Chiusi,  and  a  cylix  from  Vulci, 
and  one  of  those  quaint  Peruvian  jars,  which  was  so  con 
structed  that,  when  filled  with  water,  the  air  escaped  in 
sounds  that  resembled  that  of  the  song  or  cry  of  the  animal 
represented  on  the  vase  or  jar.  In  the  space  between  the  tall 
windows  that  fronted  the  lawn  hung  a  weird,  life-size  pic 
ture  that  took  strange  hold  on  the  imagination  of  all  who 
looked  at  it.  A  gray-haired  Cimbrian  Prophetess,  in  white 
vestments  and  brazen  girdle,  with  canvas  mantle  fastened 
on  the  shoulder  by  a  broad  brazen  clasp,  stood,  with  bare 
feet,  on  a  low,  rude  scaffolding,  leaning  upon  her  sword, 
and  eagerly  watching,  with  divining  eyes,  the  stream  of 
blood  which  trickled  from  the  throat  of  the  slaughtered 
human  victim  down  into  the  large  brazen  kettle  beneath 
the  scaffold.  The  snowy  locks  and  white  mantle  seemed  to 
flutter  in  the  wind;  and  those  who  gazed  on  the  stony,  in 
exorable  face  of  the  Prophetess,  and  into  the  glittering  blue 
eyes,  shuddered  and  almost  fancied  they  heard  the  pattering 
of  the  gory  stream  against  the  sides  of  the  brass  caldron. 
But  expensive  and  rare  as  were  these  relics  of  bygone  dy 
nasties  and  mouldering  epochs,  there  was  one  other  object 
for  which  the  master  would  have  given  everything  else  in 
this  museum  of  curiosities,  and  the  secret  of  which  no  eyes 
but  his  own  had  yet  explored.  On  a  sculptured  slab,  that 
once  formed  a  portion  of  the  architrave  of  the  Cave  Temple 
at  Elephanta,  was  a  splendid  marble  miniature,  four  feet 
high,  of  that  miracle  of  Saracenic  architecture,  the  Taj 
Mahal  at  Agra.  The  elaborate  carving  resembled  lace- 
work,  and  the  beauty  of  the  airy  dome  and  slender,  glitter 
ing  minarets  of  this  mimic  tomb  of  Noor-Mahal  could  find 
no  parallel,  save  in  the  superb  and  matchless  original.  The 
richly-carved  door  that  closed  the  arch  of  the  tomb  swung 
back  on  golden  hinges,  and  opened  only  by  a  curiously - 
shaped  golden  key,  which  never  left  Mr.  Murray's  watch- 


ST.  ELMO.  63 

chain;  consequently  what  filled  the  penetralia  was  left  for 
the  conjecture  of  the  imaginative;  and  when  his  mother  ex 
pressed  a  desire  to  examine  it,  he  merely  frowned  and  said 
hastily : 

"That  is  Pandora's  box,  minus  imprisoned  hope.  I  prefer 
it  should  not  be  opened." 

Immediately  in  front  of  the  tomb  he  had  posted  a  grim 
sentinel — a  black  marble  statuette  of  Mors,  modeled  from 
that  hideous  little  brass  figure  which  Spence  saw  at  Flor 
ence,  representing  a  skeleton  sitting  on  the  ground,  resting 
one  arm  on  an  urn. 

Filled  though  it  was  with  sparkling  bijouterie  that  would 
have  graced  the  Barberini  or  Strozzi  cabinets,  the  glitter  of 
the  room  was  cold  and  cheerless.  No  light,  childish  feet 
had  ever  pattered  down  the  long  rows  of  shining  tiles;  no 
gushing,  mirthful  laughter  had  ever  echoed  through  those 
lofty  windows;  everything  pointed  to  the  past — a  classic, 
storied  past,  but  dead  as  the  mummies  of  Karnac,  and 
treacherously,  repulsively  lustrous  as  the  waves  that  break 
in  silver  circles  over  the  buried  battlements,  and  rustling 
palms  and  defiled  altars  of  the  proud  cities  of  the  plain.  No 
rosy  memories  of  early,  happy  manhood  lingered  here;  no 
dewy  gleam  of  the  merry  morning  of  life,  when  hope  painted 
and  peopled  a  smiling  world;  no  magic  trifles  that  prattled 
of  the  springtime  of  a  heart,  that  in  wandering  to  and  fro 
through  the  earth,  had  fed  itself  with  dust  and  ashes,  acrid 
and  bitter;  had  studiously  collected  only  the  melancholy 
symbols  of  mouldering  ruin,  desolation,  and  death,  and 
which  found  its  best  type  in  the  Taj  Mahal,  that  glistened 
so  mockingly  as  the  gas-light  flickered  over  it. 

A  stranger  looking  upon  St.  Elmo  Murray  for  the  first 
time,  as  he  paced  the  floor,  would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
realize  that  only  thirty- four  years  had  plowed  those  deep, 
rugged  lines  in  his  swarthy  and  colorless  but  still  handsome 
face ;  where  midnight  orgies  and  habitual  excesses  had  left 
their  unmistakable  plague-spot,  and  Mephistopheles  had 
stamped  his  signet.  Blase,  cynical,  scoffing,  and  hopeless, 
he  had  stranded  his  life,  and  was  recklessly  striding 'to  his 
grave,  trampling  upon  the  feelings  of  all  with  whom  he  as 
sociated,  and  at  war  with  a  world,  in  which  his  lordly  bril 
liant  intellect  would  have  lifted  him  to  any  eminence  he  de- 


64  ST.  ELMO. 

sired,  and  which,  properly  directed,  would  have  made  him 
the  benefactor  and  ornament  of  the  society  he  snubbed  and 
derided.  Like  all  strong  though  misguided  natures,  the 
power  and  activity  of  his  mind  enhanced  his  wretchedness, 
and  drove  him  farther  and  farther  from  the  path  of  recti 
tude  ;  while  the  consciousness  that  he  was  originally  capable 
of  loftier,  purer  aims,  and  nobler  pursuits  than  those  that 
now  engrossed  his  perverted  thoughts,  rendered  him  sav 
agely  morose.  For  nearly  fifteen  dreary  years,  nothing  but 
jeers  and  oaths  and  sarcasms  had  crossed  his  finely  sculp 
tured  lips,  which  had  forgotten  how  to  smile;  and  it  was 
only  when  the  mocking  demon  of  the  wine-cup  looked  out 
from  his  gloomy  gray  eyes  that  his  ringing,  sneering  laugh 
struck  like  a  dagger  to  the  heart  that  loved  him,  that  of  his 
proud  but  anxious  and  miserable  mother.  To-night,  for  the 
first  time  since  his  desperate  plunge  into  the  abyss  of  vice, 
conscience,  which  he  had  believed  effectually  strangled, 
stirred  feebly,  startling  him  with  a  faint  moan,  as  unex 
pected  as  the  echo  from  Morella's  tomb,  or  the  resurrection 
of  Ligeia;  and  down  the  murdered  years  came  wailing 
ghostly  memories,  which  even  his  iron  will  could  no  longer 
scourge  to  silence.  Clamorous  as  the  avenging  Erinnys, 
they  refused  to  be  exorcised,  and  goaded  him  almost  to 
frenzy. 

Those  sweet,  low,  timid  tones,  "I  am  sorry  for  you,"  had 
astonished  and  mortified  him.  To  be  hated  and  dreaded 
was  not  at  all  unusual  or  surprising,  but  to  be  pitied  and 
despised  was  a  sensation  as  novel  as  humiliating;  and  the 
fact  that  all  his  ferocity  failed  to  intimidate  the  "little  vag 
rant"  was  unpleasantly  puzzling. 

For  some  time  after  Edna's  departure  he  pondered  all 
that  had  passed  between  them,  and  at  length  he  muttered : 

"How  thoroughly  she  abhors  me!  If  I  touch  her,  the 
flesh  absolutely  writhes  away  fro*i  my  hand,  as  if  I  were 
plague-stricken  or  a  leper.  Her  very  eyelids  shudder  when 
she  looks  at  me — and  I  believe  she  would  more  willingly 
confront  Apollyon  himself.  Strange!  how  she  detests  me.  I 
have  half  a  mind  to  make  her  love  me,  even  despite  herself. 
What  a  steady,  brave  look  of  scorn  there  was  in  her  splendid 
eyes  when  she  told  me  to  my  face  I  was  sinful  and  cruel !" 

He  set  his  teeth  hard,  and  his  fingers  clinched  as  if  long- 


ST.  ELMO.  65 

ing  to  crush  something ;  and  then  came  a  great  revulsion,  a 
fierce  spasm  of  remorse,  and  his  features  writhed. 

"Sinful?  Ay!  Cruel?  O  my  lost  youth !  my  cursed  and 
wrecked  manhood!  If  there  be  a  hell  blacker  than  my 
miserable  soul,  man  has  not  dreamed  of  nor  language 
painted  it.  What  would  I  not  give  for  a  fresh,  pure,  and 
untrampled  heart,  such  as  slumbers  peacefully  in  yonder 
room,  with  no  damning  recollections  to  scare  sleep  from  her 
pillow  ?  Innocent  childhood !" 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands;  and  thus  an  hour  went  by,  during  which  he  neither 
moved  nor  sighed. 

Tearing  the  veil  from  the  past,  he  reviewed  it  calmly,  re 
lentlessly,  vindictively,  and  at  last,  rising,  he  threw  his  head 
back,  with  his  wonted  defiant  air,  and  his  face  hardened  and 
darkened  as  he  approached  the  marble  mausoleum,  and  laid 
his  hand  upon  the  golden  key. 

"Too  late!  too  late!  I  can  not  afford  to  reflect.  The 
devil  himself  would  shirk  the  reading  of  such  a  record." 

He  fitted  the  key  in  the  lock,  but  paused  and  laughed 
scornfully  as  he  slung  it  back  on  his  chain. 

"Pshaw !  I  am  a  fool !  After  all,  I  shall  not  need  to  see 
them,  the  silly,  childish  mood  has  passed." 

He  filled  a  silver  goblet  with  some  strong  spicy  wine, 
drank  it,  and  taking  down  Candide,  brightened  the  gas  jets, 
lighted  a  fresh  cigar,  and  began  to  read  as  he  resumed  his 
walk: 

"  Lord  of  himself ;  that  heritage  of  woe — 
That  fearful  empire  which  the  human  breast 
But  holds  to  rob  the  heart  within  of  rest." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MRS.  MURRAY  had  informed  Edna  that  the  gentleman 
whom  she  had  engaged  to  instruct  her  resided  in  the  neigh 
boring  town  of ,  and  one  Monday  morning  in  August 

she  carried  her  to  see  him,  telling  her,  as  they  drove  along, 
that  he  was  the  minister  of  the  largest  church  in  the  county, 
was  an  old  friend  of  her  family,  and  that  she  considered  her 
self  exceedingly  fortunate  in  having  prevailed  upon  him  to 
consent  to  undertake  her  education.  The  parsonage  stood 
on  the  skirts  of  the  village,  in  a  square  immediately  opposite 
the  church,  and  was  separated  from  it  by  a  wide  handsome 
street,  lined  on  either  side  with  elm  trees.  The  old-fashioned 
house  was  of  brick,  with  a  wooden  portico  jutting  out  over 
the  front  door,  and  around  the  slender  pillars  twined  honey 
suckle  and  clematis  tendrils,  purple  with  clustering  bells ; 
while  the  brick  walls  were  draped  with  luxuriant  ivy,  that 
hung  in  festoons  from  the  eaves,  and  clambered  up  the 
chimneys  and  in  at  the  windows.  The  daily-swept  walk 
leading  to  the  gate  was  bordered  with  white  and  purple 
lilies — "flags,"  as  the  villagers  dubbed  them — and  over  the 
little  gate  sprang  an  arch  of  lattice- work  loaded  with  Bel 
gian  and  English  honeysuckle,  whose  fragrant  wreaths 
drooped  till  they  touched  the  heads  of  all  who  entered. 
When  Mrs.  Murray  and  Edna  ascended  the  steps  and 
knocked  at  the  open  door,  bearing  the  name  "Allan  Ham 
mond,"  no  living  thing  was  visible,  save  a  thrush  that  looked 
out  shyly  from  the  clematis  vines ;  and  after  waiting  a  mo 
ment,  Mrs.  Hurray  entered  unannounced.  They  looked  into 
the  parlor,  with  its  cool  matting  and  white  curtains  and 
polished  old-fashioned  mahogany  furniture,  but  the  room 
was  unoccupied ;  then  passing  on  to  the  library  or  study, 
where  tiers  of  books  rose  to  the  ceiling,  they  saw,  through 
the  open  window,  the  form  of  the  pastor,  who  was  stooping 
to  gather  the  violets  blooming  in  the  little  shaded  garden  at 
the  rear  of  the  house.  A  large  white  cat  sunned  herself  on 

[66] 


ST.  ELMO.  67 

the  strawberry  bed,  and  a  mocking-bird  sang  in  the  myrtle- 
tree  that  overshadowed  the  study-window.  Mrs.  Murray 
called  to  the  minister,  and  taking  off  his  straw  hat  he  bowed, 
and  came  to  meet  them. 

"Mr.  Hammond,  I  hope  I  do  not  interrupt  you?" 

"No,  Ellen,  you  never  interrupt  me.  I  was  merely  gath 
ering  some  violets  to  strew  in  a  child's  coffin.  Susan 
Archer,  poor  thing!  lost  her  little  Winnie  last  night,  and  I 
knew  she  would  like  some  flowers  to  sprinkle  over  her  baby." 

He  shook  hands  wdth  Mrs.  Murray,  and  turning  to  her 
companion  offered  his  hand  saying  kindly: 

"This  is  my  pupil,  Edna,  I  presume?  I  expected  you  sev 
eral  days  ago,  and  am  very  glad  to  see  you  at  last.  Come 
into  the  house  and  let  us  become  acquainted  at  once." 

As  he  led  the  way  to  the  library,  talking  the  while  to  Mrs. 
Murray,  Edna's  eyes  followed  him  with  an  expression  of 
intense  veneration,  for  he  appeared  to  her  a  living  original 
of  the  pictured  prophets — the  Samuel,  Isaiah,  and  Ezekiel, 
whose  faces  she  had  studied  in  the  large  illustrated  Bible 
that  lay  on  a  satin  cushion  in  the  sitting-room  at  Le  Bocage. 
Sixty-five  years  of  wrestling  and  conquests  on  the  "Quar- 
antina"  of  life  had  set  upon  his  noble  and  benignant  coun 
tenance  the  seal  of  holiness,  and  shed  over  his  placid  fea 
tures  the  mild,  sweet  light  of  a  pure,  serene  heart,  of  a 
lofty,  trusting,  sanctified  soul.  His  white  hair  and  beard 
had  the  silvery  sheen  which  seems  peculiar  to  prematurely 
gray  heads,  and  the  snowy  mass  wonderfully  softened  the 
outline  of  the  face;  while  the  pleasant  smile  on  his  lips,  the 
warm,  cheering  light  in  his  bright  blue  eyes,  won  the  per 
fect  trust,  the  profound  respect,  the  lasting  love  and  venera 
tion  of  those  who  entered  the  charmed  circle  of  his  influ 
ence.  Learned  without  pedantry,  dignified  but  not  pompous, 
genial  and  urbane;  never  forgetting  the  sanctity  of  his  mis 
sion,  though  never  thrusting  its  credentials  into  notice; 
judging  the  actions  of  all  with  a  leniency  which  he  denied  to 
his  own;  zealous  without  bigotry,  charitable  yet  rigidly  just, 
as  free  from  austerity  as  levity,  his  heart  throbbed  with 
warm,  tender  sympathy  for  his  race ;  and  while  none  felt  his 
or  her  happiness  complete  until  his  cordial  congratulations 
sealed  it,  every  sad  mourner  realized  that  her  burden  of  woe 
was  lightened  when  poured  into  his  sympathizing  ears.  The 


68  ST.  ELMO. 

sage  counselor  of  the  aged  among  his  flock,  he  was  the  loved 
companion  of  younger  members,  in  whose  juvenile  sports 
and  sorrows  he  was  never  too  busy  to  interest  himself ;  and 
it  was  not  surprising  that  over  all  classes  and  denomina 
tions  he  wielded  an  influence  incalculable  for  good. 

The  limits  of  one  church  could  not  contain  his  great  heart, 
which  went  forth  in  yearning  love  and  fellowship  to  his 
Christian  brethren  and  co-laborers  throughout  the  world, 
while  the  refrain  of  his  daily  work  was,  "Bear  ye  one  an 
other's  burdens."  So  in  the  evening  of  a  life  blessed  with 
the  bounteous  fruitage  of  good  deeds,  he  walked  to  and  fro, 
in  the  wide  vineyard  of  God,  with  the  light  of  peace,  of 
faith,  and  hope,  and  hallowed  resignation  shining  over  his 
worn  and  aged  face. 

Drawing  Edna  to  a  seat  beside  him  on  the  sofa,  Mr.  Ham 
mond  said : 

"Mrs.  Murray  has  intrusted  your  education  entirely  to 
me;  but  before  I  decide  positively  what  books  you  will  re 
quire  I  should  like  to  know  what  particular  branches  of 
study  you  love  best.  Do  you  feel  disposed  to  take  up 
Latin?" 

"Yes,  sir— and " 

"Well,  go  on,  my  dear.    Do  not  hesitate  to  speak  freely." 

"If  you  please,  sir,  I  should  like  to  study  Greek  also." 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Edna!  women  never  have  any  use  for 
Greek ;  it  would  only  be  a  waste  of  your  time,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Murray. 

Mr.  Hammond  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"Why  do  you  wish  to  study  Greek?  You  will  scarcely  be 
called  upon  to  teach  it." 

"I  should  not  think  that  I  was  well  or  thoroughly  edu 
cated  if  I  did  not  understand  Greek  and  Latin ;  and  beside, 
I  want  to  read  what  Solon  and  Pericles  and  Demosthenes 
wrote  in  their  own  language." 

"Why,  what  do  you  know  about  those  men?" 

"Only  what  Plutarch  says." 

"What  kind  of  books  do  you  read  with  most  pleasure?" 

"History  and  travels." 

"Are  you  fond  of  arithmetic?" 

"No,  sir." 


ST.  ELMO.  69 

"But  as  a  teacher  you  will  have  much  more  use  for 
mathematics  than  for  Greek." 

"I  should  think  that,  with  all  my  life  before  me,  I  might 
study  both ;  and  even  if  I  should  have  no  use  for  it,  it  would 
do  me  no  harm  to  understand  it.  Knowledge  is  never  in 
the  way,  is  it?" 

"Certainly  not  half  so  often  as  ignorance.  Very  well; 
you  shall  learn  Greek  as  fast  as  you  please.  I  should  like 
to  hear  you  read  something.  Here  is  Goldsmith's  Deserted 
Village;  suppose  you  try  a  few  lines;  begin  here  at  'Sweet 
was  the  sound.'  " 

She  read  aloud  the  passage  designated,  and  as  he  ex 
pressed  himself  satisfied,  and  took  the  book  from  her  hand, 
Mrs.  Murray  said : 

"I  think  the  child  is  as  inveterate  a  bookworm  as  I  ever 
knew;  but  for  heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Hammond,  do  not  make 
her  a  blue-stocking." 

"Ellen,  did  you  ever  see  a  genuine  blue-stocking?" 

"I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  say  that  I  never  was  so  un 
fortunate." 

"You  consider  yourself  lucky  then,  in  not  having  known 
De  Stael,  Hannah  More,  Charlotte  Bronte,  and  Mrs. 
Browning?" 

"To  be  consistent,  of  course,  I  must  answer  yes;  but  you 
know  we  women  are  never  supposed  to  understand  that 
term,  much  less  possess  the  jewel  itself ;  and  beside,  sir,  you 
take  undue  advantage  of  me,  for  the  women  you  mention 
were  truly  great  geniuses.  I  was  not  objecting  to  genius  in 
women." 

"Without  those  auxiliaries  and  adjuncts  which  you  depre 
cate  so  earnestly,  would  their  native  genius  ever  have  dis 
tinguished  them,  or  charmed  and  benefited  the  world? 
Brilliant  success  makes  blue-stockings  autocratic,  and  the 
world  flatters  and  crowns  them ;  but  unsuccessful  aspirants 
are  strangled  with  an  offensive  sobriquet,  than  which  it  were 
better  that  they  had  mill-stones  tied  about  their  necks.  Af 
ter  all,  Ellen,  it  is  rather  ludicrous,  and  seems  very  unfair, 
that  the  whole  class  of  literary  ladies  should  be  sneered  at 
on  account  of  the  color  of  Stillingfleet's  stockings,  eighty 
years  ago." 


70  ST.  ELMO. 

"If  you  please,  sir,  I  should  like  to  know  the  meaning  of 
'blue-stocking?'  "  said  Edna. 

"You  are  in  a  fair  way  to  understand  it  if  you  study 
Greek,"  answered  Mrs.  Murray,  laughing  at  the  puzzled  ex 
pression  of  the  child's  countenance. 

Mr.  Hammond  smiled,  and  replied : 

"A  'blue-stocking,'  my  dear,  is  generally  supposed  to  be  a 
lady,  neither  young,  pleasant,  nor  pretty  (and  in  most  in 
stances  unmarried)  ;  who  is  unamiable,  ungraceful,  and  un 
tidy;  ignorant  of  all  domestic  accomplishments  and  truly 
feminine  acquirements,  and  ambitious  of  appearing  very 
learned;  a  woman  whose  fingers  are  more  frequently 
adorned  with  ink-spots  than  thimble;  who  holds  housekeep 
ing  in  detestation,  and  talks  loudly  about  politics,  science, 
and  philosophy ;  who  is  ugly,  and  learned,  and  cross ;  whose 
hair  is  never  smooth  and  whose  ruffles  are  never  fluted.  Is 
that  a  correct  likeness,  Ellen?" 

"As  good  as  one  of  Brady's  photographs.  Take  warning, 
Edna." 

"The  title  of  'blue-stocking,'  "  continued  the  pastor,  "orig 
inated  in  a  jest,  many,  many  years  ago,  when  a  circle  of 
very  brilliant,  witty,  and  elegant  ladies  in  London,  met  at 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Vesey,  to  listen  to  and  take  part  in  the 
conversation  of  some  of  the  most  gifted  and  learned  men 
England  has  ever  produced.  One  of  those  gentlemen, 
Stillingfleet,  who  always  wore  blue  stockings,  was  so  ex 
ceedingly  agreeable  and  instructive,  that  when  he  chanced 
to  be  absent  the  company  declared  the  party  was  a  failure 
without  the  blue  stockings,'  as  he  was  familiarly  called.  A 
Frenchman,  who  heard  of  the  circumstance,  gave  to  the=e 
conversational  gatherings  the  name  of  cbas  bleu,'  which 
means  blue  stocking;  and  hence,  you  see,  that  in  popular 
acceptation,  I  mean  in  public  opinion,  the  humorous  title, 
which  was  given  in  compliment  to  a  very  charming  gentle 
man,  is  now  supposed  to  belong  to  very  tiresome,  pedantic, 
and  disagreeable  ladies.  Do  you  understand  the  matter 
now?" 

"I  do  not  quite  understand  why  ladies  have  not  as  good 
a  right  to  be  learned  and  wise  as  gentlemen." 

"To  satisfy  you  on  that  point  would  involve  more  histori 
cal  discussion  than  we  have  time  for  this  morning;  some 


ST.  ELMO.  71 

day  we  will  look  into  the  past  and  find  a  solution  of  the 
question.  Meanwhile  you  may  study  as  hard  as  you  please, 
and  remember,  my  dear,  that  where  one  woman  is  consid 
ered  a  blue-stocking,  and  tiresomely  learned,  twenty  are 
more  tiresome  still  because  they  know  nothing.  I  will  ob 
tain  all  the  books  you  need,  and  hereafter  you  must  come 
to  me  every  morning  at  nine  o'clock.  When  the  weather  is 
good,  you  can  easily  walk  over  from  Mrs.  Murray's." 

As  they  drove  homeward,  Edna  asked: 

"Has  Mr.  Hammond  a  family?" 

"No ;  he  lost  his  family  years  ago.  But  why  do  you  ask 
that  question?" 

"I  saw  no  lady,  and  I  wondered  who  kept  the  house  in 
such  nice  order." 

"He  has  a  very  faithful  servant  who  attends  to  his  house 
hold  affairs.  In  your  intercourse  with  Mr.  Hammond  be 
careful  not  to  allude  to  his  domestic  afflictions." 

Mrs.  Murray  looked  earnestly,  searchingly  at  the  girl,  as 
if  striving  to  fathom  her  thoughts ;  then  throwing  her  head 
back,  with  the  haughty  air  which  Edna  had  remarked  in  St. 
Elmo,  she  compressed  her  lips,  lowered  her  veil,  and  re 
mained  silent  and  abstracted  until  they  reached  home. 

The  comprehensive  and  very  thorough  curriculum  of 
studies  now  eagerly  commenced  by  Edna,  and  along  which 
she  was  gently  and  skilfully  guided  by  the  kind  hand  of  the 
teacher,  furnished  the  mental  aliment  for  which  she  hun 
gered,  gave  constant  and  judicious  exercise  to  her  active  in 
tellect,  and  induced  her  to  visit  the  quiet  parsonage  library 
as  assiduously  as  did  Horace,  Valgius,  and  Virgil  the  gar 
dens  on  the  Esquiline  where  Maecenas  held  his  literary  as 
size.  Instead  of  skimming  a  few  text-books  that  cram  the 
brain  with  unwieldy  scientific  technicalities  and  pompous 
philosophic  terminology,  her  range  of  thought  and  study 
gradually  stretched  out  into  a  broader,  grander  cycle,  em 
bracing,  as  she  grew  older,  the  application  of  those  great 
principles  that  underlie  modern  science  and  crop  out  in  ever- 
varying  phenomena  and  empirical  classifications.  Edna's 
tutor  seemed  impressed  with  the  fallacy  of  the  popular  sys 
tem  of  acquiring  one  branch  of  learning  at  a  time,  locking 
it  away  as  in  drawers  of  rubbish,  never  to  be  opened,  where 
it  moulders  in  shapeless  confusion  till  swept  out  ultimately 


72  ST.  ELMO. 

to  make  room  for  more  recent  scientific  invoices.  Thus  in 
lieu  of  the  educational  plan  of  "finishing  natural  philosophy 
and  chemistry  this  session,  and  geology  and  astronomy  next 
term,  and  taking  up  moral  science  and  criticism  the  year  we 
graduate,"  Mr.  Hammond  allowed  his  pupil  to  finish  and 
lay  aside  none  of  her  studies;  but  sought  to  impress  upon 
her  the  great  value  of  Blackstone's  aphorism :  "For  sciences 
are  of  a  sociable  disposition,  and  flourish  best  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  each  other;  nor  is  there  any  branch  of  learning 
but  may  be  helped  and  improved  by  assistance  drawn  from 
other  arts." 

Finding  that  her  imagination  was  remarkably  fertile,  he 
required  her,  as  she  advanced  in  years,  to  compose  essays, 
letters,  dialogues,  and  sometimes  orations,  all  of  which  were 
not  only  written  and  handed  in  for  correction,  but  he  fre 
quently  directed  her  to  recite  them  from  memory,  and  in 
vited  her  to  assist  him,  while  he  dissected  and  criticised 
either  her  diction,  line  of  argument,  choice  of  metaphors, 
or  intonation  of  voice.  In  these  compositions  he  en 
couraged  her  to  seek  illustrations  from  every  department 
of  letters,  and  convert  her  theme  into  a  focus,  upon  which 
to  pour  all  the  concentrated  light  which  research  could  re 
flect,  assuring  her  that  what  is  often  denominated  "far- 
fetchedness,"  in  metaphors,  furnished  not  only  evidence  of 
the  laborious  industry  of  the  writer,  but  is  an  implied  com 
pliment  to  the  cultured  taste  and  general  knowledge  of  those 
for  whose  entertainment  or  edification  they  are  employed — 
provided  always  said  metaphors  and  similes  really  illustrate, 
elucidate,  and  adorn  the  theme  discussed — when  properly 
understood. 

His  favorite  plea  in  such  instances  was,  "If  Humboldt 
and  Cuvier,  and  Linnaeus,  and  Ehrenberg  have  made  man 
kind  their  debtors  by  scouring  the  physical  cosmos  for  scien 
tific  data,  which  every  living  savant  devours,  assimilates, 
and  reproduces  in  dynamic,  physiologic,  or  entomologic 
theories,  is  it  not  equally  laudable  in  scholars,  orators,  and 
authors — nay,  is  it  not  obligatory  on  them,  to  subsidize  the 
vast  cosmos  of  literature,  to  circumnavigate  the  world  of 
belles-lettres,  in  search  of  new  hemispheres  of  thought,  and 
spice  islands  of  illustrations ;  bringing  their  rich  gleanings 
to  the  great  public  mart,  where  men  barter  their  intellectual 


ST.  ELMO.  73 

merchandise?  Wide  as  the  universe  and  free  as  its  winds 
should  be  the  range  of  human  mind." 

Yielding  allegiance  to  the  axiom  that  "the  proper  study 
of  mankind  is  man,"  and  recognizing  the  fact  that  history 
faithfully  epitomizes  the  magnificent  triumphs  and  stu 
pendous  failures,  the  grand  capacities  and  innate  frailties 
of  the  races,  he  fostered  and  stimulated  his  pupil's  fondness 
for  historic  investigation;  while  in  impressing  upon  her 
memory  the  chronologic  sequence  of  events  he  not  only 
grouped  into  great  epochs  the  principal  dramas,  over  which 
Clio  holds  august  critical  tribunal,  but  so  carefully  selected 
her  miscellaneous  reading,  that  poetry,  novels,  biography, 
and  essays  reflected  light  upon  the  actors  of  the  particular 
epoch  which  she  was  studying ;  and  thus  through  the  subtle 
but  imperishable  links  of  association  of  ideas,  chained  them 
in  her  mind. 

The  extensive  library  at  Le  Bocage,  and  the  valuable  col 
lection  of  books  at  the  parsonage,  challenged  research,  and, 
with  a  boundless  ambition,  equalled  only  by  her  patient,  per 
severing  application,  Edna  devoted  herself  to  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge,  and  astonished  and  delighted  her  teacher  by 
the  rapidity  of  her  progress  and  the  vigor  and  originality 
of  her  restless  intellect. 

The  noble  catholicity  of  spirit  that  distinguished  Mr. 
Hammond's  character  encouraged  her  to  discuss  freely  the 
ethical  and  psychological  problems  that  arrested  her  atten 
tion  as  she  grew  older,  and  facilitated  her  appreciation  and 
acceptance  of  the  great  fact,  that  all  bigotry  springs  from 
narrow  minds  and  partial  knowledge.  He  taught  her  that 
truth,  scorning  monopolies  and  deriding  patents,  lends  some 
valuable  element  to  almost  every  human  system ;  that  ignor 
ance,  superstition,  and  intolerance  are  the  red-handed  Huns 
that  ravage  society,  immolating  the  pioneers  of  progress 
upon  the  shrine  of  prejudice — fettering  science — blindly 
bent  on  divorcing  natural  and  revealed  truth,  which  "God 
hath  joined  together"  in  holy  and  eternal  wedlock;  and 
while  they  battle  a  I'outrance  with  every  innovation,  lock  the 
wheels  of  human  advancement,  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
thrilling  cry: 


74 


ST.  ELMO. 


"  Yet  I  doubt  not  through  the  ages  one  increasing  purpose  runs, 
And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened  with  the  process  of  the 
suns." 

If  Carlyle  be  correct  in  his  declaration  that  "Truly  a 
thinking  man  is  the  worst  enemy  the  prince  of  darkness  can 
have,  and  every  time  such  a  one  announces  himself  there 
runs  a  shudder  through  the  nether  empire,  where  new 
emissaries  are  trained  with  new  tactics,  to  hoodwink  and 
handcuff  him,"  who  can  doubt  that  the  long  dynasty  of 
Eblis  will  instantly  terminate,  when  every  pulpit  in  Christen 
dom,  from  the  frozen  shores  of  Spitzbergen  to  the  green 
dells  of  Owhyhee,  from  the  shining  spires  of  Europe  to  the 
rocky  battlements  that  front  the  Pacific,  shall  be  filled  with 
meek  and  holy  men  of  ripe  scholarship  and  resistless  elo 
quence,  whose  scientific  erudition  keeps  pace  with  their 
evangelical  piety,  and  whose  irreproachable  lives  attest  that 
their  hearts  are  indeed  hallowed  temples  of  that  loving 
charity  "that  suffereth  long  and  is  kind;  that  vaunteth  not 
itself,  is  not  puffed  up;  thinketh  no  evil;  beareth  all  things, 
hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things  ?" 

While  Christ  walked  to  and  fro  among  the  palms  and 
poppies  of  Palestine,  glorifying  anew  an  accursed  and  de 
graded  human  nature,  unlettered  fishermen,  who  mended 
their  nets  and  trimmed  their  sails  along  the  blue  waves  of 
Galilee,  were  fit  instruments,  in  his  guiding  hands,  for  the 
dissemination  of  his  Gospel;  but  when  the  days  of  the  In 
carnation  ended,  and  Jesus  returned  to  the  Father,  all  the 
learning  and  the  mighty  genius  of  Saul  of  Tarsus  were  re 
quired  to  confront  and  refute  the  scoffing  sophists  who,  re 
plete  with  philhellenic  lore,  and  within  sight  of  the  mar 
vellous  triglyphs  and  metopes  of  the  Parthenon,  gathered  on 
Mars  Hill  to  defend  their  marble  altars  to  the  Unknown 
God. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DURING  the  months  of  September  and  October  Mrs.  Mur 
ray  filled  the  house  with  company,  and  parties  of  gentle 
men  came  from  time  to  time  to  enjoy  the  game  season  and 
take  part  in  the  hunts  to  which  St.  Elmo  devoted  himself. 
There  were  elegant  dinners  and  petits  soupcrs  that  would 
not  have  disgraced  Tusculum,  or  made  Lucullus  blush  when 
Pompey  and  Cicero  sought  to  surprise  him  in  the  "Apollo" ; 
there  were  billiard-matches  and  horse-races,  and  merry 
gatherings  at  the  ten-pin  alley ;  and  laughter,  and  music,  and 
dancing  usurped  the  dominions  where  silence  and  gloom  had 
so  long  reigned.  Naturally  shy  and  unaccustomed  to  com 
panionship,  Edna  felt  no  desire  to  participate  in  these  fes 
tivities,  but  became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  her  studies, 
and  her  knowledge  of  the  company  was  limited  to  the  brief 
intercourse  of  the  table,  where  she  observed  the  deference 
yielded  to  the  opinions  of  the  master  of  the  house,  and  the 
dread  that  all  manifested  lest  they  should  fall  under  the 
lash  of  his  merciless  sarcasm.  An  Ishmael  in  society,  his 
uplifted  hand  smote  all  conventionalities  and  shams,  spared 
neither  age  nor  sex,  nor  sanctuaries,  and  acknowledged 
sanctity  nowhere.  The  punctilious  courtesy  of  his  manner 
polished  and  pointed  his  satire,  and  when  a  personal  appli 
cation  of  his  remarks  was  possible,  he  would  bow  gracefully 
to  the  lady  indicated,  and  fill  her  glass  with  wine,  while  he 
filled  her  heart  with  chagrin  and  rankling  hate.  Since  the 
restoration  of  the  Dante,  not  a  word  had  passed  between 
him  and  Edna,  who  regarded  him  with  increasing  detesta 
tion  ;  but  on  one  occasion,  when  the  conversation  was  gen 
eral,  and  he  sat  silent  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  she  looked 
up  at  him  and  found  his  eyes  fixed  on  her  face.  Inclining 
his  head  slightly  to  arrest  her  attention,  he  handed  a  de 
canter  of  sherry  to  one  of  the  servants,  with  some  brief  di 
rection,  and  a  moment  after  her  glass  was  filled,  and  the 
waiter  said : 

[75] 


76  ST.  ELMO. 

"Mr.  Murray's  compliments  to  Aaron  Hunt's  grand 
daughter."  Observation  had  taught  her  what  was  custo 
mary  on  such  occasions,  and  she  knew  that  he  had  once  no 
ticed  her  taking  wine  with  the  gentleman  who  sat  next  to 
her ;  but  now  repugnance  conquered  politeness,  the  mention 
of  her  grandfather's  name  seemed  an  insult  from  his  lips, 
and  putting  her  hand  over  her  glass,  she  looked  him  full  in 
the  face  and  shook  her  head.  Nevertheless  he  lifted  his 
wine,  bowed,  and  drank  the  last  drop  in  the  crystal  goblet; 
then  turned  to  a  gentleman  on  his  right  hand,  and  instantly 
entered  into  a  learned  discussion  on  the  superiority  of  the 
wines  of  the  Levant  over  those  of  Germany,  quoting 
triumphantly  the  lines  of  M.  de  Nevers: 

"  Sur  la  membrane  de  leur  sens, 
Font  des  sillons  charmans." 

When  the  ladies  withdrew  to  the  parlor  he  rose,  as  was 
his  custom,  and  held  the  door  open  for  them.  Edna  was  the 
last  of  the  party,  and  as*  she  passed  him  he  smiled  mockingly 
and  said : 

"It  was  unfortunate  that  my  mother  omitted  to  enumerate 
etiquette  in  the  catalogue  of  studies  prosecuted  at  the  par 
sonage." 

Instantly  the  answer  sprang  to  her  lips: 

"She  knew  I  had  a  teacher  for  that  branch  nearer  home"  ; 
but  her  conscience  smote  her,  she  repressed  the  words,  and 
said  gravely: 

"My  reason  was,  that  I  think  only  good  friends  should 
take  wine  together." 

"This  is  your  declaration  of  war?  Very  well,  only  re 
member  I  raise  a  black  flag  and  show  no  quarter.  Woe  to 
the  conquered." 

She  hurried  away  to  the  library,  and  thenceforth  "kept 
out  of  his  way"  more  assiduously  than  ever;  while  the  fact 
that  he  scrutinized  her  closely,  rendered  her  constrained  and 
uncomfortable,  when  forced  to  enter  his  presence.  Mrs. 
Murray  well  understood  her  hostile  feeling  toward  her  son, 
but  she  never  alluded  to  it,  and  his  name  was  not  mentioned 
by  either. 

One  by  one  the  guests  departed;  autumn  passed,  winter 
was  ushered  in  by  wailing  winds  and  drizzling  rains;  and 


ST.  ELMO.  77 

one  morning  as  Edna  came  out  of  the  hot-house,  with  a 
basketful  of  camellias,  she  saw  St.  Elmo  bidding  his  mother 
good-bye,  as  he  started  on  his  long  journey  to  Oceanica. 
They  stood  on  the  steps,  Mrs.  Murray's  head  rested  on  his 
shoulder,  and  bitter  tears  were  falling  on  her  cheeks  as  she 
talked  eagerly  and  rapidly  to  him.  Edna  heard  him  say  im 
patiently  : 

"You  ask  what  is  impossible;  it  is  worse  than  useless  to 
urge  me.  Better  pray  that  I  may  find  a  peaceful  grave  in 
the  cinnamon  groves  and  under  the  'plumy  palms'  of  the  far 
south." 

He  kissed  his  mother's  cheek  and  sprang  into  the  saddle, 
but  checked  his  horse  at  sight  of  the  orphan,  who  stood  a 
few  yards  distant. 

"Are  you  coming  to  say  good-bye?  Or  do  you  reserve 
such  courtesies  for  your  'good  friends'  ?" 

Regret  for  her  former  rudeness,  and  sympathy  for  Mrs. 
Murray's  uncontrollable  distress,  softened  her  heart  toward 
him;  she  selected  the  finest  white  camellia  in  the  basket, 
walked  close  to  the  horse,  and,  tendering  the  flower,  said : 

"Good-bye,  sir.    I  hope  you  will  enjoy  your  travels." 

"And  prolong  them  indefinitely?  Ah.  you  offer  a  flag  of 
truce?  I  warned  you  I  should  not  respect  it.  You  know 
my  motto,  'Nemo  me  impune  lacessit!'  Thank  you,  for  this 
lovely  peace-offering.  Since  you  are  willing  to  negotiate, 
run  and  open  the  gate  for  me.  I  may  never  pass  through 
it  again  except  as  a  ghost." 

She  placed  her  basket  on  the  steps  and  ran  down  the  ave 
nue,  while  he  paused  to  say  something  to  his  mother.  Edna 
knew  that  he  expected  to  be  absent,  possibly,  several  years, 
and  while  she  regretted  the  pain  which  his  departure  gave 
her  benefactress,  she  could  not  avoid  rejoicing  at  the  relief 
she  promised  herself  during  his  sojourn  in  foreign  lands. 

Slowly  he  rode  along  the  venerable  aisle  of  elms  that  had 
overarched  his  childish  head  in  the  sunny  morning  of  a 
quickly  clouded  life,  and  as  he  reached  the  gate,  which 
Edna  held  open,  he  dismounted. 

"Edna,  if  you  are  as  truthful  in  all  matters  as  you  have 
proved  in  your  dislikes,  I  may  safely  intrust  this  key  to  your 
keeping.  It  belongs  to  that  marble  temple  in  my  sitting- 
room,  and  opens  a  vault  that  contains  my  will  and  a  box  of 


78  ST.  ELMO. 

papers,  and — some  other  things  that  I  value.  There  is  no 
possibility  of  entering  it,  except  with  this  key,  and  no  one 
but  myself  knows  the  contents.  I  wish  to  leave  the  key 
with  you,  on  two  conditions:  first,  that  you  never  mention 
it  to  any  one — not  even  my  mother,  or  allow  her  to  suspect 
that  you  have  it;  secondly,  that  you  promise  me  solemnly 
you  will  not  open  the  tomb  or  temple  unless  I  fail  to  return 
at  the  close  of  four  years.  This  is  the  tenth  of  December — 
four  years  from  to-day,  if  I  am  not  here,  and  if  you  have 
good  reason  to  consider  me  dead,  take  this  key  (which  I 
wish  you  to  wear  about  your  person)  to  my  mother,  inform 
her  of  this  conversation,  and  then  open  the  vault.  Can  you 
resist  the  temptation  to  look  into  it?  Think  well  before  you 
answer." 

He  had  disengaged  the  golden  key  from  his  watch-chain 
and  held  it  in  his  hand. 

"I  should  not  like  to  take  charge  of  it,  Mr.  Murray.  You 
can  certainly  trust  your  own  mother  sooner  than  an  utter 
stranger  like  myself." 

He  frowned  and  muttered  an  oath ;  then  exclaimed : 
"I  tell  you  I  do  not  choose  to  leave  it  in  any  hands  but 
yours.    Will  you  promise  or  will  you  not  ?" 

The  dreary  wretchedness,  the  savage  hopelessness  of  his 
countenance  awed  and  pained  the  girl,  and  after  a  mo 
ment's  silence,  and  a  short  struggle  with  her  heart,  she  ex 
tended  her  hand,  saying  with  evident  reluctance: 
"Give  me  the  key,  I  will  not  betray  your  trust." 
"Do  you  promise  me  solemnly  that  you  will  never  open 
that  vault,  except  in  accordance  with  my  directions  ?  Weigh 
the  promise  well  before  you  give  it." 
"Yes,  sir ;  I  promise  most  solemnly." 
He  laid  the  key  in  her  palm  and  continued : 
"My  mother  loves  you — try  to  make  her  happy  while  I 
am  away;  and  if  you  succeed,  you  will  be  the  first  person 
to  whom  I  have  ever  been  indebted.     I  have  left  directions 
concerning  my  books  and  the  various  articles  in  my  rooms. 
Feel  no  hesitation  in  examining  any  that  may  interest  you, 
and  see  that  the  dust  does  not  ruin  them.    Good-bye,  child ; 
take  care  of  my  mother." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  she  gave  him  hers  for  an  instant 
Dnly,  and  he  mounted,  lifted  his  cap,  and  rode  away. 


ST.  ELMO. 


79 


Closing  the  ponderous  gate,  Edna  leaned  her  face  against 
the  iron  bars,  and  watched  the  lessening  form.  Gradually 
trees  intervened,  then  at  a  bend  in  the  road  she  saw  him 
wheel  his  horse  as  if  to  return.  For  some  moments  he  re 
mained  stationary,  looking  back,  but  suddenly  disappeared, 
and,  with  a  sigh  of  indescribable  relief,  she  retraced  her 
steps  to  the  house.  As  she  approached  the  spot  where  Mrs. 
Murray  still  sat,  with  her  face  hidden  in  her  handkerchief, 
the  touch  of  the  little  key,  tightly  folded  in  her  palm, 
brought  a  painful  consciousness  of  concealment  and  a  tinge 
of  shame  to  her  cheeks ;  for  it  seemed  in  her  eyes  an  insult 
to  her  benefactress  that  the  guardianship  of  the  papers 
should  have  been  withheld  from  her. 

She  would  have  stolen  away  to  her  own  room  to  secrete 
the  key;  but  Mrs.  Murray  called  her,  and  as  she  sat  down 
beside  her  the  miserable  mother  threw  her  arms  around  the 
orphan,  and  resting  her  cheek  on  her  head  wept  bitterly. 
Timidly,  but  very  gently  and  tenderly,  the  latter  strove  to 
comfort  her,  caressing  the  white  hands  that  were  clasped  in 
almost  despairing  anguish. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Murray,  do  not  grieve  so  deeply;  he  may 
come  back  much  earlier  than  you  expect.  He  will  get  tired 
of  travelling,  and  come  back  to  his  own  beautiful  home,  and 
to  you,  who  love  him  so  devotedl /." 

"No,  no !  he  will  stay  away  as  long  as  possible.  It  is  not 
beautiful  to  him.  He  hates  his  home  and  forgets  me!  My 
loneliness,  my  anxiety  are  nothing  in  comparison  to  his  mor 
bid  love  of  change.  I  shall  never  see  him  again." 

"But  he  loves  you  very  much,  and  that  will  bring  him  to 
you." 

"Why  do  you  think  so  ?" 

"He  pointed  to  you,  a  few  moments  ago,  and  his  face 
was  full  of  wretchedness  when  he  told  me,  'Make  my 
mother  happy  while  I  am  gone,  and  you  will  be  the  first 
person  to  whom  I  have  ever  been  indebted.'  Do  not  weep 
so,  dear  Mrs.  Murray ;  God  can  preserve  him  as  well  on  sea 
as  here  at  home." 

"Oh!  but  he  will  not  pray  for  himself!"  sobbed  the 
mother. 

"Then  you  must  pray  all  the  more  for  him ;  and  go  where 
he  will,  he  cannot  get  beyond  God's  sight,  or  out  of  His 


8o  ST.  ELMO. 

merciful  hands.  You  know  Christ  said,  'Whatsoever  you 
ask  in  my  name,  I  will  do  it' ;  and  if  the  Syrophenician's 
daughter  was  saved  not  by  her  own  prayers  but  by  her 
mother's  faith,  why  should  not  God  save  your  son  if  you 
pray  and  believe  ?" 

Mrs.  Murray  clasped  Edna  closer  to  her  heart,  and  kissed 
her  warmly. 

"You  are  my  only  comfort!  If  I  had  your  faith  I  should 
not  be  so  unhappy.  My  dear  child,  promise  me  one  thing, 
that  every  time  you  pray  you  will  remember  my  son,  and 
ask  God  to  preserve  him  in  his  wanderings,  and  bring  him 
safely  back  to  his  mother.  I  know  you  do  not  like  him,  but 
for  my  sake  will  you  not  do  this  ?" 

"My  prayers  are  not  worth  much,  but  I  will  always  re 
member  to  pray  for  him;  and,  Mrs.  Murray,  while  he  is 
away,  suppose  you  have  family  prayer,  and  let  all  the  house 
hold  join  in  praying  for  the  absent  master.  I  think  it  would 
be  such  a  blessing  and  comfort  to  you.  Grandpa  always  had 
prayer  night  and  morning,  and  it  made  every  day  seem  al 
most  as  holy  as  Sunday." 

Mrs.  Murray  was  silent  a  little  while,  and  answered  hesi 
tatingly  : 

"But,  my  dear,  I  should  not  know  how  to  offer  up  prayers 
before  the  family.  I  can  pray  for  myself,  but  I  should  not 
like  to  pray  aloud." 

There  was  a  second  pause,  and  finally  she  said : 

"Edna,  would  you  be  willing  to  conduct  prayers  for 
me?" 

"It  is  your  house,  and  God  expects  the  head  of  every 
family  to  set  an  example.  Even  the  pagans  offered  sacri 
fices  every  day  for  the  good  of  the  household,  and  you  know 
the  Jews  had  morning  and  evening  sacrifices ;  so  it  seems  to 
me  family  prayer  is  such  a  beautiful  offering  on  the  altar 
of  the  hearthstone.  If  you  do  not  wish  to  pray  yourself, 
you  could  read  a  prayer;  there  is  a  book  called  Family 
Prayer,  with  selections  for  every  day  in  the  week.  I  saw  a 
copy  at  the  parsonage,  and  I  can  get  one  like  it  at  the  book 
store  if  you  desire  it." 

"That  will  suit  my  purpose  much  better  than  trying  to 
compose  them  myself.  You  must  get  the  book  for  me. 
But,  Edna,  don't  go  to  school  to-day,  stay  at  home  with  me ; 


ST.  ELMO.  8l 

I  am  so  lonely  and  low-spirited.  I  will  tell  Mr.  Hammond 
that  I  could  not  spare  you.  Beside,  I  want  you  to  help  me 
arrange  some  valuable  relics  belonging  to  my  son,  and  now 
that  I  think  of  it,  he  told  me  he  wished  you  to  use  any  of 
his  books  or  MSS.  that  you  might  like  to  examine.  This  is  a 
great  honor,  child,  for  he  has  refused  many  grown  people 
admission  to  his  rooms.  Come  with  me,  I  want  to  lock  up 
his  curiosities." 

They  went  through  the  rotunda  and  into  the  rooms  to 
gether;  and  Mrs.  Murray  busied  herself  in  carefully  re 
moving  the  cameos,  intaglios,  antique  vases,  goblets,  etc., 
etc.,  from  the  tables,  and  placing  them  in  the  drawers  of 
the  cabinets.  As  she  crossed  the  room  tears  fell  on  the 
costly  trifles,  and  finally  she  approached  the  beautiful 
miniature  temple  and  stooped  to  look  at  the  fastening.  She 
selected  the  smallest  key  on  the  bunch,  that  contained  a 
dozen,  and  attempted  to  fit  it  in  the  small  opening,  but  it 
was  too  large;  then  she  tried  her  watch-key,  but  without 
success,  and  a  look  of  chagrin  crossed  her  sad,  tear-stained 
face. 

"St.  Elmo  has  forgotten  to  leave  the  key  with  me." 

Edna's  face  grew  scarlet,  and  stooping  to  pick  up  a  heavy 
cornelian  seal  that  had  fallen  on  the  carpet,  she  said,  hastily : 

"What  is  that  marble  temple  intended  to  hold?" 

"I  have  no  idea;  it  is  one  of  my  son's  oriental  fancies.  I 
presume  he  uses  it  as  a  private  desk  for  his  papers." 

"Does  he  leave  the  key  with  you  when  he  goes  from 
home  ?" 

"This  is  the  first  time  he  has  left  home  for  more  than 
a  few  weeks  since  he  brought  this  gem  from  the  East.  I 
must  write  to  him  about  the  key  before  he  sails.  He  has  it 
on  his  watch-chain." 

The  same  curiosity  which,  in  ages  long  past,  prompted  the 
discovery  of  the  Eleusinian  or  Cabiri  mysteries  now  sud 
denly  took  possession  of  Edna,  as  she  looked  wonderingly 
at  the  shining  fagade  of  the  exquisite  Taj  Mahal,  and  felt 
that  only  a  promise  stood  between  her  and  its  contents. 

Escaping  to  her  own  room,  she  proceeded  to  secrete  the 
troublesome  key,  and  to  reflect  upon  the  unexpected  circum 
stances  which  not  only  rendered  it  her  duty  to  pray  for  the 
wanderer  but  necessitated  her  keeping  always  about  her  a 


82  ST.  ELMO. 

souvenir  of  the  man  whom  she  could  not  avoid  detesting, 
and  was  yet  forced  to  remember  continually. 

On  the  following  day,  when  she  went  to  her  usual  morn 
ing  recitation,  and  gave  the  reason  for  her  absence,  she  no 
ticed  that  Mr.  Hammond's  hand  trembled,  and  a  look  of 
keen  sorrow  settled  on  his  face. 

"Gone  again !  and  so  soon !  So  far,  far  away  from  all 
good  influences!" 

He  put  down  the  Latin  grammar  and  walked  to  the  win 
dow,  where  he  stood  for  some  time,  and  when  he  returned 
to  his  armchair  Edna  saw  that  the  muscles  of  his  face  were 
unsteady. 

"Did  he  not  stop  to  tell  you  good-bye  ?" 

"No,  my  dear,  he  never  comes  to  the  parsonage  now. 
When  he  was  a  boy,  I  taught  him  here  in  this  room,  as  I 
now  teach  you.  But  for  fifteen  years  he  has  not  crossed  my 
threshold,  and  yet  I  never  sleep  until  I  have  prayed  for 
him." 

"Oh !  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  that !  Now  I  know  he  will  be 
saved." 

The  minister  shook  his  gray  head,  and  Edna  saw  tears 
in  his  mild  blue  eyes  as  he  answered: 

"A  man's  repentance  and  faith  can  not  be  offered  by 
proxy  to  God.  So  long  as  St.  Elmo  Murray  persists  in  in 
sulting  his  Maker,  I  shudder  for  his  final  end.  He  has  the 
finest  intellect  I  have  ever  met  among  living  men ;  but  it  is 
unsanctified — worse  still,  it  is  dedicated  to  the  work  of 
scoffing  at  and  blaspheming  the  truths  of  religion.  In  his 
youth  he  promised  to  prove  a  blessing  to  his  race  and  an 
ornament  to  Christianity;  now  he  is  a  curse  to  the  world 
and  a  dreary  burden  to  himself." 

"What  changed  him  so  sadly?" 

"Some  melancholy  circumstances  that  occurred  early  in 
his  life.  Edna,  he  planned  and  built  that  beautiful  church 
where  you  come  on  Sabbath  to  hear  me  preach,  and  about 
the  time  it  was  finished  he  went  off  to  college.  When  he 
returned  he  avoided  me,  and  has  never  yet  been  inside  of 
the  costly  church  which  his  taste  and  his  money  constructed. 
Still,  while  I  live,  I  shall  not  cease  to  pray  for  him,  hoping 
that  in  God's  good  time  he  will  bring  him  back  to  the  pure 
faith  of  his  boyhood." 


ST.  ELMO.  83 

"Mr.  Hammond,  is  he  not  a  very  wicked  man?" 

"He  had  originally  the  noblest  heart  I  ever  knew,  and 
was  as  tender  in  his  sympathies  as  a  woman,  while  he  was 
almost  reckless  in  his  munificent  charities.  But  in  his  pres 
ent  irreligious  state  I  hear  that  he  has  grown  bitter  and  sour 
and  illiberal.  Yet,  however  repulsive  his  manner  may  be,  I 
can  not  believe  that  his  nature  is  utterly  perverted.  He  is 
dissipated  but  not  unprincipled.  Let  him  rest,  my  child,  in 
the  hands  of  his  God,  who  alone  can  judge  him.  We  can 
but  pray  and  hope.  Go  on  with  your  lesson." 

The  recitation  was  resumed  and  ended ;  but  Edna  was 
well  aware  that  for  the  first  time  her  teacher  was  inattentive, 
and  the  heavy  sighs  that  passed  his  lips  almost  unconsciously 
told  her  how  sorely  he  was  distressed  by  the  erratic  course 
of  his  quondam  pupil. 

When  she  rose  to  go  home  she  asked  the  name  of  the 
author  of  the  Family  Prayers  which  she  wished  to  purchase 
for  Mrs.  Murray,  and  the  pastor's  face  flushed  with  pleasure 
as  he  heard  of  her  cherished  scheme. 

"My  dear  child,  be  circumspect,  be  prudent;  above  all 
things,  be  consistent.  Search  your  own  heart;  try  to  make 
your  life  an  exposition  of  your  faith;  let  profession  and 
practice  go  hand  in  hand;  ask  God's  special  guidance  in  the 
difficult  position  in  which  you  are  placed,  and  your  influence 
for  good  in  Mrs.  Murray's  family  may  be  beyond  all  com 
putation."  Laying  his  hands  on  her  head,  he  continued 
tremulously:  "O  my  God!  if  it  be  thy  will,  make  her  the 
instrument  of  rescuing,  ere  it  be  indeed  too  late.  Help  me 
to  teach  her  aright;  and  let  her  pure  life  atone  for  all  the 
inconsistencies  and  wrongs  that  have  well-nigh  wrought 
eternal  ruin." 

Turning  quickly  away,  he  left  the  room,  before  she  could 
even  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  countenance. 

The  strong  and  lasting  affection  that  sprang  up  between 
instructor  and  pupil — the  sense  of  dependence  on  each 
other's  society — rarely  occurs  among  persons  in  whose  ages 
so  great  a  disparity  exists.  Spring  and  autumn  have  no 
affinities — age  has  generally  no  sympathy  for  the  gushing 
sprightliness,  the  eager  questioning,  the  rose-hued  dreams 
and  aspirations  of  young  people ;  and  youth  shrinks  chilled 
and  constrained  from  the  austere  companionship  of  those 


84  ST.  ELMO. 

who,  with  snowy  locks  gilded  by  the  fading  rays  of  a  setting 
sun,  totter  down  the  hill  of  life,  journeying  to  the  dark  and 
silent  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 

Preferring  Mr.  Hammond's  society  to  that  of  the  com 
parative  strangers  who  visited  Mrs.  Murray,  Edna  spent 
half  of  her  time  at  the  quiet  parsonage,  and  the  remainder 
with  her  books  and  music.  That  under  auspices  so  favora 
ble  her  progress  was  almost  unprecedentedly  rapid,  fur 
nished  matter  of  surprise  to  no  one  who  was  capable  of  es 
timating  the  results  of  native  genius  and  vigorous  applica 
tion.  Mrs.  Murray  watched  the  expansion  of  her  mind,  and 
the  development  of  her  beauty,  with  emotions  of  pride  and 
pleasure,  which,  had  she  analyzed  them,  would  have  told 
her  how  dear  and  necessary  to  her  happiness  the  orphan 
had  become. 

As  Edna's  reasoning  powers  strengthened,  Mr.  Ham 
mond  led  her  gradually  to  the  contemplation  of  some  of  the 
gravest  problems  that  have  from  time  immemorial  perplexed 
and  maddened  humanity,  plunging  one  half  into  blind,  big 
oted  traditionalism,  and  scourging  the  other  into  the  dreary 
sombre,  starless  wastes  of  Pyrrhonism.  Knowing  full  well 
that  of  every  earnest  soul  and  honest,  profound  thinker 
these  ontologic  questions  would  sooner  or  later  demand 
audience,  he  wisely  placed  her  in  the  philosophic  palaestra, 
encouraged  her  wrestlings,  cheered  her  on,  handed  her  from 
time  to  time  the  instruments  and  aids  she  needed,  and  then, 
when  satisfied  that  the  intellectual  gymnastics  had  properly 
trained  and  developed  her,  he  invited  her — where  he  felt 
assured  the  spirit  of  the  age  would  inevitably  drive  her — to 
the  great  Pythian  games  of  speculation,  where  the  lordly 
intellects  of  the  nineteenth  century  gather  to  test  their 
ratiocinative  skill,  and  bear  off  the  crown  of  bay  on  the 
point  of  a  syllogism  or  the  wings  of  an  audacious  hypoth 
esis. 

Thus  immersed  in  study,  weeks,  months,  and  years  glided 
by,  bearing  her  young  life  swiftly  across  the  Enna  meads 
of  girlhood,  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  portals  of  that  mystic 
temple  of  womanhood,  on  whose  fair  fretted  shrine  was  to 
be  offered  a  heart  either  consumed  by  the  baleful  fires  of 
Baal,  or  purified  and  consecrated  by  the  Shekinah,  prom 
ised  through  Messiah. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DURING  the  first  year  of  Mr.  Murray's  absence  his  brief 
letters  to  his  mother  were  written  at  long  intervals;  in  the 
second,  they  were  rarer  and  briefer  still;  but  toward  the 
close  of  the  third  he  wrote  more  frequently,  and  announced 
his  intention  of  revisiting  Egypt  before  his  return  to  the 
land  of  his  birth.  Although  no  allusion  was  ever  made  to 
Edna,  Mrs.  Murray  sometimes  read  aloud  descriptions  of 
beautiful  scenery,  written  now  among  the  scoriae  of  Mauna 
Roa  or  Mauna  Kea,  and  now  from  the  pinnacle  of  Mount 
Ophir,  whence,  through  waving  forests  of  nutmeg  and 
clove,  flashed  the  blue  waters  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  or  the 
silver  ripples  of  Malacca;  and,  on  such  occasions,  the 
orphan  listened  eagerly,  entranced  by  the  tropical  luxuri 
ance  and  grandeur  of  his  imagery,  by  his  gorgeous  word- 
painting,  which  to  her  charmed  ears  seemed  scarcely  in 
ferior  to  the  wonderful  pen-portraits  of  Ruskin.  Those 
letters  seemed  flecked  with  the  purple  and  gold,  the  amber 
and  rose,  the  opaline  and  beryline  tints,  of  which  he  spoke 
in  telling  the  glories  of  Polynesian  and  Malaysian  skies,  and 
the  matchless  verdure  and  floral  splendors  of  their  serene 
spicy  dells.  For  many  days  after  the  receipt  of  each,  Mrs. 
Murray  was  graver  and  sadder,  but  the  spectre  that  had 
disquieted  Edna  was  thoroughly  exorcised,  and  only  when 
the  cold  touch  of  the  golden  key  startled  her  was  she  con 
scious  of  a  vague  dread  of  some  far-off  but  slowly  and 
surely  approaching  evil.  In  the  fourth  year  of  her  pupilage 
she  was  possessed  by  an  unconquerable  desire  to  read  the 
Talmud,  and  in  order  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  and  seize 
the  treasures  hidden  in  that  exhaustless  mine  of  Oriental 
myths,  legends,  and  symbolisms,  she  prevailed  upon  Mr. 
Hammond  to  teach  her  Hebrew  and  the  rudiments  of  Chal- 
dee.  Very  reluctantly  and  disapprovingly  he  consented,  and 
subsequently  informed  her  that,  as  he  had  another  pupil  who 
was  also  commencing  Hebrew,  he  would  class  them,  and 

[85] 


86  ST.  ELMO. 

hear  their  recitations  together.  This  new  student  was  Mr. 
Gordon  Leigh,  a  lawyer  in  the  town,  and  a  gentleman  of 
wealth  and  high  social  position.  Although  quite  young,  he 
gave  promise  of  eminence  in  his  profession,  and  was  a  great 
favorite  of  the  minister,  who  pronounced  him  the  most  up 
right  and  exemplary  young  man  of  his  acquaintance.  Edna 
had  seen  him  several  times  at  Mrs.  Murray's  dinners,  but 
while  she  thought  him  exceedingly  handsome,  polite,  and 
agreeable,  she  regarded  him  as  a  stranger,  until  the  lessons 
at  the  Parsonage  brought  them  every  two  days  around  the 
little  table  in  the  study.  They  began  the  language  simul 
taneously;  but  Edna,  knowing  the  flattering  estimation  in 
which  he  was  held,  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  meas 
ure  her  intellect  with  his,  and  soon  threatened  to  outrun 
him  in  the  Talmud  race.  Piqued  pride  and  a  manly  resolu 
tion  to  conquer  spurred  him  on,  and  the  venerable  instructor 
looked  on  and  laughed  at  the  generous  emulation  thus  ex 
cited.  He  saw  an  earnest  friendship  daily  strengthening 
between  the  rivals,  and  knew  that  in  Gordon  Leigh's  mag 
nanimous  nature  there  was  no  element  which  could  cause 
an  objection  to  the  companionship  to  which  he  had  paved 
the  way. 

Four  months  after  the  commencement  of  the  new  study, 
Edna  rorse  at  daylight  to  complete  some  exercises,\vhich  she 
had  neglected  to  write  out  on  the  previous  evening,  and  as 
soon  as  she  concluded  the  task,  went  down  stairs  to  gather 
the  flowers.  It  was  the  cloudless  morning  of  her  seven 
teenth  birthday  and  as  she  stood  clipping  geraniums  and 
jasmine  and  verbena,  memory  flew  back  to  the  tender  years 
in  which  the  grisly  blacksmith  had  watched  her  career  with 
such  fond  pride  and  loving  words  of  encouragement,  and 
painted  the  white-haired  old  man  smoking  on  the  porch  that 
fronted  Lookout,  while  from  his  lips,  tremulous  with  a  ten 
der  smile,  seemed  to  float  the  last  words  he  had  spoken  to 
her  on  that  calm  afternoon  when,  in  the  fiery  light  of  a 
dying  day,  he  was  gathered  to  his  forefathers: 

"You  will  make  me  proud  of  you,  my  little  Pearl,  when 
you  are  smart  enough  to  teach  a  school  and  take  care  of 
me,  for  I  shall  be  too  old  to  work  by  that  time." 

Now,  after  the  lapse  of  years,  when  her  educational 
course  was  almost  finished,  she  recalled  every  word  and 


ST.  ELMO.  87 

look  and  gesture;  even  the  thrill  of  horror  that  shook  her 
limbs  when  she  kissed  the  lips  that  death  had  sealed  an 
hour  before.  Mournfully  vivid  was  her  recollection  of  her 
tenth  birthday,  for  then  he  had  bought  her  a  blue  ribbon 
for  her  hair,  and  a  little  china  cup  and  saucer ;  and  now  tears 
sprang  to  her  eyes  as  she  murmured:  "I  have  studied  hard 
and  the  triumph  is  at  hand,  but  I  have  nobody  to  be  proud 
of  me  now!  Ah  Grandpa!  if  you  could  only  come  back  to 
me,  your  little  Pearl !  It  is  so  desolate  to  be  alone  in  this 
great  world ;  so  hard  to  have  to  know  that  nobody  cares 
specially  whether  I  live  or  die,  whether  I  succeed  or  fail 
ignominiously.  I  have  only  myself  to  live  for;  only  my 
own  heart  and  will  to  sustain  and  stimulate  me." 

Through  the  fringy  acacias  that  waved  their  long  hair 
across  the  hothouse  windows,  the  golden  sunshine  flickered 
over  the  graceful,  rounded,  lithe  figure  of  the  orphan — 
over  the  fair  young  face  with  its  delicate  cameo  features, 
warm,  healthful  coloring,  and  brave,  hopeful  expression. 
Four  years  had  developed  the  pretty,  sad-eyed  child  into 
a  lovely  woman,  with  a  pure  heart  filled  with  humble  unos 
tentatious  piety,  and  a  clear,  vigorous  intellect  inured  to 
study,  and  ambitious  of  every  honorable  eminence  within 
the  grasp  of  true  womanhood. 

Edna  had  endeavored  to  realize  and  remember  what  her 
Bible  first  taught  her,  and  what  moraliits  of  all  creeds, 
climes  and  ages,  had  reiterated — that  human  life  was  at  best 
but  "vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,"  that  "man  is  born  to 
trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  upward" ;  yet  as  she  stood  on  the 
line,  narrow  and  thin  as  Al-Sirat,  that  divides  girlhood  and 
womanhood,  all  seemed  to  her  fresh,  pure  heart  as  inviting 
and  bewitching  as  the  magnificent  panorama  upon  which 
enraptured  lotophagi  gazed  from  the  ancient  acropolis  of 
Cyrene. 

As  Edna  turned  to  leave  the  hothouse,  the  ring  of  horse's 
hoofs  on  the  rocky  walk  attracted  her  attention,  and  a  mo 
ment  after,  Mr.  Leigh  gave  his  horse  to  the  gardener  and 
came  to  meet  her. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Edna.  As  I  am  bearer  of  dis 
patches  from  my  sister  to  Mrs.  Murray,  I  have  invited  my 
self  to  breakfast  with  you." 


88  ST.  ELMO. 

"You  are  an  earlier  riser  than  I  had  supposed,  Mr.  Leigh, 
from  your  lamentations  over  your  exercises." 

"I  do  not  deny  that  I  love  my  morning  nap,  and  generally 
indulge  myself;  for,  like  Sydney  Smith,  'I  can  easily  make 
up  my  mind  to  rise  early,  but  I  cannot  make  up  my  body.' 
In  one  respect  I  certainly  claim  equality  with  Thorwaldsen, 
my  'talent  for  sleeping'  is  inferior  neither  to  his  nor 
Goethe's.  Do  you  know  that  we  are  both  to  have  a  holiday 
to-day?" 

"No,  sir;  upon  what  score?" 

"It  happens  to  be  my  birthday  as  well  as  yours,  and  as 
my  sister,  Mrs.  Inge,  gives  a  party  to-night  in  honor  of  the 
event,  I  have  come  to  insist  that  my  classmate  shall  enjoy 
the  same  reprieve  that  I  promise  myself.  Mrs.  Inge  com 
missioned  me  to  insure  your  presence  at  her  party." 

"Thank  you ;  but  I  never  go  out  to  parties." 

"But  bad  precedents  must  not  guide  you  any  longer.  If 
you  persist  in  staying  at  home,  I  shall  not  enjoy  the  even 
ing,  for  in  every  dance  I  shall  fancy  my  vis-a-vis  your 
spectre,  with  an  exercise  in  one  hand  and  a  Hebrew  gram 
mar  in  the  other.  A  propos!  Mr.  Hammond  told  me  to 
say  that  he  would  not  expect  you  to-day,  but  would  meet 
you  to-night  at  Mrs.  Inge's.  You  need  not  trouble  your 
self  to  decline,  for  I  shall  arrange  matters  with  Mrs.  Mur 
ray.  In  honor  of  my  birthday  will  you  not  give  me  a  sprig 
of  something  sweet  from  your  basket?" 

They  sat  down  on  the  steps  of  the  dining-room,  and 
Edna  selected  some  delicate  oxalis  cups  and  nutmeg  gera 
nium  leaves,  which  she  tied  up,  and  handed  to  her  com 
panion. 

Fastening  them  in  the  button-hole  of  his  coat,  he  drew  a 
small  box  from  his  pocket,  and  said: 

"I  noticed  last  week,  when  Mr.  Hammond  was  explain 
ing  the  Basilidian  tenets,  you  manifested  some  curiosity 
concerning  their  amulets  and  mythical  stones.  Many  years 
ago,  while  an  uncle  of  mine  was  missionary  in  Arabia,  he 
saved  the  life  of  a  son  of  a  wealthy  sheik,  and  received 
from  him,  in  token  of  his  gratitude,  a  curious  ring,  which 
tradition  said  once  belonged  to  a  caliph,  and  had  been  found 
near  the  ruins  of  Chilminar.  The  ring  was  bequeathed  to 


ST.  ELMO.  89 

me,  and  is  probably  the  best  authenticated  antique  in  this 
country.  Presto !  we  are  in  Bagdad !  in  the  blessed  reign — 

'    ...     in  the  golden  prime 
Of  good  Haroun  Alraschid!' 

I  am  versed  in  neither  Cufic  nor  Neskhi  lore,  but  the  char 
acters  engraved  on  this  ring  are  said  to  belong  to  the  former 
dialect,  and  to  mean  'Peace  be  with  thee,"  which  is,  and  I 
believe  has  been,  from  time  immemorial,  the  national  salu 
tation  of  the  Arabs." 

He  unwound  the  cotton  that  enveloped  the  gem,  and  held 
it  before  Edna's  eyes. 

A  broad  band  of  dusky,  tarnished  gold  was  surmounted 
by  a  large  crescent-shaped  emerald,  set  with  beautiful  pearls, 
and  underneath  the  Arabic  inscription  was  engraved  a 
ram's  head,  bearing  on  one  horn  a  small  crescent,  on  the 
other  a  star. 

As  Edna  bent  forward  to  examine  it  Mr.  Leigh  con 
tinued  : 

"I  do  not  quite  comprehend  the  symbolism  of  the  ram's 
head  and  the  star ;  the  crescent  is  clear  enough." 

"I  think  I  can  guess  the  meaning."    Edna's  eyes  kindled. 

"Tell  me  your  conjecture;  my  own  does  not  satisfy  me, 
as  the  Arabic  love  of  mutton  is  the  only  solution  at  which 
I  have  arrived." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Leigh !  look  at  it  and  think  a  moment." 

"Well,  I  have  looked  at  it  and  thought  a  great  deal,  and 
I  tell  you  mutton-broth  sherbet  is  the  only  idea  suggested 
to  my  mind.  You  need  not  look  so  shocked,  for,  when 
cooled  with  the  snows  of  Caucasus,  I  am  told  it  makes  a 
beverage  fit  for  Greek  gods." 

"Think  of  the  second  chapter  of  St.  Luke." 

He  pondered  a  moment,  and  answered,  gravely : 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  do  not  remember  that  particular 
chapter  well  enough  to  appreciate  your  clew." 

She  hesitated,  and  the  color  deepened  on  her  cheek  as  she 
repeated,  in  a  low  voice : 

'  'And  there  were  in  the  same  country  shepherds  abiding 
in  the  field,  keeping  watch  over  their  flock  by  night.  And, 
lo,  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  upon  them,  and  the  glory 
of  the  Lord  shone  round  about  them.  And  suddenly  there 


90  ST.  ELMO. 

was  with  the  angel  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  prais 
ing  God,  and  saying,  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on 
earth  peace,  good  will  toward  men.' 

"Mr.  Leigh,  the  star  on  the  ram's  horn  may  be  the  Star 
of  Bethlehem  that  shone  over  the  manger,  and  the  Arabic 
inscription  is  certainly  the  salutation  of  the  angel  to  the 
shepherds.  'Peace,  good  will  toward  men,'  says  St.  Luke; 
'Peace  be  with  thee,"  said  Islamism." 

"Your  solution  seems  plausible,  but,  pardon  me,  is  totally 
inadmissible,  from  the  fact  that  it  blends  crescent  and  cross, 
and  ignores  antagonisms  that  deluged  centuries  with  blood." 

"You  forget,  Mr.  Leigh,  that  Mohammedanism  is  noth 
ing  but  a  huge  eclecticism,  and  that  its  founder  stole  its  ele 
ments  from  surrounding  systems.  The  symbolism  of  the 
crescent  he  took  from  the  mysteries  of  Isis  and  Astarte;  the 
ethical  code  of  Christ  he  engrafted  on  the  monotheism  of 
Judaism;  his  typical  forms  are  drawn  from  the  Old  Testa 
ment  or  the  more  modern  Mishma ;  and  his  pretended  mira 
cles  are  mere  repetitions  of  the  wonders  performed  by  our 
Saviour — for  instance,  the  basket  of  dates,  the  roasted  lamb, 
the  loaf  of  barley  bread,  in  the  siege  of  Medina.  Even  the 
Moslem  Jehennam  is  a  palpable  imitation  of  the  Hebrew 
Gehenna.  Beside,  sir,  you  know  that  Sabeanism  reigned  in 
Arabia  just  before  the  advent  of  Mohammed,  and  if  you 
refuse  to  believe  that  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  was  signified  by 
this  one  shining  here  on  the  ram's  horn,  at  least  you  must 
admit  that  it  refers  to  stars  studied  by  the  shepherds  who 
watched  their  flocks  on  the  Chaldean  plains.  In  a  cabinet 
of  coins  and  medals,  belonging  to  Mr.  Murray,  I  have  ex 
amined  one  of  silver,  representing  Astaroth,  with  the  head 
of  a  woman  adorned  with  horns  and  a  crescent,  and  another 
of  brass,  containing  an  image  of  Baal — a  human  face  on 
the  head  of  an  ox,  with  the  horns  surrounded  by  stars. 
However,  I  am  very  ignorant  of  these  things,  and  you  must 
refer  the  riddle  of  the  ring  to  some  one  more  astute  and 
learned  in  such  matters  than  your  humble  'yokefellow'  in 
Hebrew.  'Peace  be  with  you.' 5: 

"I  repeat  'Peace  be  with  thee,'  during  the  new  year  on 
which  we  are  both  entering,  and,  as  you  have  at  least  at 
tempted  to  read  the  riddle,  let  me  beg  that  you  will  do  me 


ST.  ELMO.  91 

the  honor  to  accept  and  wear  the  ring  in  memory  of  our 
friendship  and  our  student  life." 

He  took  her  hand,  and  would  have  placed  the  ring  on  her 
finger,  but  she  resisted. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Leigh,  I  appreciate  the  honor,  but 
indeed  you  must  excuse  me,  I  cannot  accept  the  ring." 

"Why  not,  Miss  Edna?" 

"In  the  first  place,  because  it  is  very  valuable  and  beauti 
ful,  and  I  am  not  willing  to  deprive  you  of  it;  in  the  second, 
I  do  not  think  it  proper  to  accept  presents  from — any  one 
but  relatives  or  dear  friends." 

"I  thought  we  were  dear  friends?  Why  can  we  not  be 
such?" 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Murray  came  into  the  dining-room, 
and  as  she  looked  at  the  two  sitting  there  in  the  early  sun 
shine,  with  the  basket  of  flowers  between  them ;  as  she 
marked  the  heightened  color  and  embarrassed  expression 
on  one  fair,  sweet  face,  and  the  eager  pleading  written  on 
the  other,  so  full  of  manly  beauty,  so  frank  and  bright  and 
genial,  a  possible  destiny  for  both  flashed  before  her;  and 
pleased  surprise  warmed  her  own  countenance  as  she  hur 
ried  forv/ard. 

"Good-morning,  Gordon.  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you. 
How  is  Clara?" 

"Quite  well,  thank  you,  and  entirely  absorbed  in  prepara 
tions  for  her  party,  as  you  will  infer  from  this  note,  which 
she  charged  me  to  deliver  in  person,  and  for  which  I  here 
pray  your  most  favorable  consideration." 

As  Mrs.  Murray  glanced  over  the  note  Edna  turned  to 
leave  the  room ;  but  Mr.  Leigh  exclaimed : 

"Do  not  go  just  yet,  I  wish  Mrs.  Murray  to  decide  a  mat 
ter  for  me." 

"Well,  Gordon,  what  is  it?" 

"First,  do  you  grant  my  sister's  petition?" 

"Certainly,  I  will  bring  Edna  with  me  to-night,  unless 
she  prefers  staying  at  home  with  her  books.  You  know 
I  let  her  do  pretty  much  as  she  pleases." 

"Now  then  for  my  little  quarrel!  Here  is  a  curious  old 
ring,  which  she  will  appreciate  more  highly  than  any  one 
else  whom  I  happen  to  know,  and  I  want  her  to  accept  it 
as  a  birthday  memento  from  me,  but  a  few  minutes  ago  she 


92  ST.  ELMO. 

refused  to  wear  it.  Can  you  not  come  to  my  assistance,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Murray?" 

She  took  the  ring,  examined  it,  and  said,  after  a  pause : 

"I  think,  Gordon,  that  she  did  exactly  right;  but  I  also 
think  that  now,  with  my  approval  and  advice,  she  need  not 
hesitate  to  wear  it  henceforth,  as  a  token  of  your  friend 
ship.  Edna,  hold  out  your  hand,  my  dear." 

The  ring  was  slipped  on  the  slender  finger,  and  as  she 
released  her  hand,  Mrs.  Murray  bent  down  and  kissed  her 
forehead. 

"Seventeen  to-day!  My  child,  I  can  scarcely  believe  it! 
And  you — Gordon?  May  I  ask  how  old  you  are?" 

"Twenty-five — I  grieve  to  say !  You  need  not  tell  me " 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  ringing  of  the 
breakfast  bell,  and  soon  after,  Mr.  Leigh  took  his  departure. 

Edna  felt  puzzled  and  annoyed,  and  as  she  looked  down 
at  the  ring  she  thought  that  instead  of  "Peace  be  with  thee," 
the  Semitic  characters  must  surely  mean,  "Disquiet  seize 
thee !"  for  they  had  shivered  the  beautiful  calm  of  her  girl 
ish  nature,  and  thrust  into  her  mind  ideas  unknown  until 
that  day.  Going  to  her  own  room,  she  opened  her  books, 
but  ere  she  could  fix  her  wandering  thoughts  Mrs.  Mur 
ray  entered. 

"Edna,  I  came  to  speak  to  you  about  your  dress  for  to 
night" 

"Please  do  not  say  that  you  wish  me  to  go,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Murray,  for  I  dread  the  very  thought." 

"But  I  must  tell  you  that  I  insist  upon  your  conforming 
to  the  usages  of  good  society.  Mrs.  Inge  belongs  to  one  of 
the  very  first  families  in  the  State ;  at  her  house  you  will 
meet  the  best  people,  and  you  could  not  possibly  make  your 
debut  under  more  favorable  circumstances.  Beside,  it  is 
very  unnatural  that  a  young  girl  should  not  enjoy  parties 
and  the  society  of  gay  young  people.  You  are  very  un 
necessarily  making  a  recluse  of  yourself,  and  I  shall  not 
permit  you  to  refuse  such  an  invitation  as  Mrs.  Inge  has 
sent.  It  would  be  rude  in  the  extreme." 

"Dear  Mrs.  Murray,  you  speak  of  my  debut,  as  if,  like 
other  girls,  I  had  nothing  else  to  do  but  fit  myself  for 
society.  These  people  care  nothing  for  me,  and  I  am  as 
little  interested  in  them.  I  have  no  desire  to  move  for  a 


ST.  ELMO.  93. 

short  time  in  a  circle  from  which  my  work  in  life  must  soon 
separate  me." 

"To  what  work  do  you  allude?" 

"The  support  which  I  must  make  by  teaching.  In  a  few 
months  I  hope  to  be  able  to  earn  all  I  need,  and  then " 

"Then  it  will  be  quite  time  enough  to  determine  what 
necessity  demands ;  in  the  meanwhile,  as  long  as  you  are  in 
my  house  you  must  allow  me  to  judge  what  is  proper  for 
you.  Clara  Inge  is  my  friend,  and  I  can  not  allow  you  to 
be  rude  to  her.  I  have  sent  the  carriage  to  town  for  Miss 
O'Riley,  my  mantua-maker,  and  Hagar  will  make  the  skirt 
of  your  dress.  Come  into  my  room  and  let  her  take  the 
measure." 

"Thank  you  for  your  kind  thoughtfulness,  but  indeed  I 
do  not  want  to  go.  Please  let  me  stay  at  home !  You  can 
frame  some  polite  excuse,  and  Mrs.  Inge  cares  not  whether 
I  go  or  stay.  I  will  write  my  regrets  and " 

"Don't  be  childish,  Edna ;  I  care  whether  you  go  or  stay, 
and  that  fact  should  weigh  with  you  much  more  than  Mrs. 
Inge's  wishes,  for  you  are  quite  right  in  supposing  that  it 
is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  her.  Do  not  keep  Hagar 
waiting." 

Mrs.  Murray's  brow  clouded,  and  her  lips  contracted,  as 
was  their  habit,  when  anything  displeased  her ;  consequently 
after  a  quick  glance,  Edna  followed  her  to  the  room  where 
Hagar  was  at  work.  It  was  the  first  time  the  orphan  had 
been  invited  to  a  large  party,  and  she  shrank  from  meeting 
people  whose  standard  of  gentility  was  confined  to  high 
birth  and  handsome  fortunes.  Mrs.  Inge  came  frequently 
to  Le  Bocage,  but  Edna's  acquaintance  with  her  was  com 
paratively  slight,  and  in  addition  to  her  repugnance  to  meet 
ing  strangers  she  dreaded  seeing  Mr.  Leigh  again  so  soon, 
for  she  felt  that  an  undefinable  barrier  had  suddenly  risen 
between  them;  the  frank,  fearless  freedom  of  the  old  friend 
ship  at  the  parsonage  table  had  vanished.  She  began  to 
wish  that  she  had  never  studied  Hebrew,  that  she  had  never 
heard  of  J3asilides,  and  that  the  sheik's  ring  was  back  among 
the  ruins  of  Chilminar.  Mrs.  Murray  saw  her  discompo 
sure,  but  chose  to  take  no  notice  of  it,  and  superintended 
her  toilet  that  night  with  almost  as  much  interest  as  if  she 
had  been  her  own  daughter. 


94 


ST.  ELMO. 


During  the  drive  she  talked  on  indifferent  subjects,  and 
as  they  went  up  to  the  dressing-room  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  that  her  protegee  manifested  no  trepidation.  They 
arrived  rather  late,  the  company  had  assembled,  and  the 
rooms  were  quite  full  as  Mrs.  Murray  entered;  but  Mrs. 
Inge  met  them  at  the  threshold,  and  Mr.  Leigh,  who  seemed 
on  the  watch,  came  forward  at  the  same  instant,  and 
offered  Edna  his  arm. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Murray!  I  had  almost  abandoned  the  hope  of 
seeing  you.  Miss  Edna,  the  set  is  just  forming,  and  we 
must  celebrate  our  birthday  by  having  the  first  dance  to 
gether.  Excuse  you,  indeed !  You  presume  upon  my  well- 
known  good  nature  and  generosity,  but  this  evening  I  am 
privileged  to  be  selfish." 

As  he  drew  her  into  the  middle  of  the  room  she  noticed 
that  he  wore  the  flowers  she  had  given  him  in  the  morning, 
and  this,  in  conjunction  with  the  curious  scrutiny  to  which 
she  was  subjected,  brought  a  sudden  surge  of  color  to  her 
cheeks.  The  dance  commenced,  and  from  one  corner  of  the 
room  Mr.  Hammond  looked  eagerly  at  his  two  pupils,  con 
trasting  them  with  the  gay  groups  that  filled  the  brilliant 
apartment. 

Edna's  slender,  graceful  figure  was  robed  in  white  Swiss 
muslin,  with  a  bertha  of  rich  lace;  and  rose-colored  rib 
bons  formed  the  sash,  and  floated  from  her  shoulders.  Her 
beautiful  glossy  hair  was  simply  coiled  in  a  large  roll  at 
the  back  of  the  head,  and  fastened  with  an  ivory  comb. 
Scrutinizing  the  face  lifted  toward  Mr.  Leigh's,  while  he 
talked  to  her,  the  pastor  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  coun 
tenance  half  so  eloquent  and  lovely.  Turning  his  gaze  upon 
her  partner,  he  was  compelled  to  confess  that  though  Gor 
don  Leigh  was  the  handsomest  man  in  the  room,  no  acute 
observer  could  look  at  the  two  and  fail  to  discover  that  the 
blacksmith's  granddaughter  was  far  superior  to  the  petted 
brother  of  the  aristocratic  Mrs.  Inge.  He  was  so  much  in 
terested  in  watching  the  couple  that  he  did  not  observe  Mrs. 
Murray's  approach  until  she  sat  down  beside  him  and  whis 
pered  : 

"Are  they  not  a  handsome  couple  ?" 

"Gordon  and  Edna?" 

"Yes." 


ST.  ELMO. 


95 


"Indeed  they  are!  I  think  that  child's  face  is  the  most 
attractive,  the  most  fascinating  I  ever  looked  at.  There  is 
such  a  rare  combination  of  intelligence,  holiness,  strength 
and  serenity  in  her  countenance;  such  a  calm,  pure  light 
shining  in  her  splendid  eyes ;  such  a  tender,  loving  look  far 
down  in  their  soft  depths." 

"Child!    Why  she  is  seventeen  to-day." 

"No  matter,  Ellen ;  to  me  she  will  always  seem  a  gentle, 
clinging,  questioning  child.  I  look  at  her  often  when  she  is 
intent  on  her  studies,  and  wonder  how  long  her  pure  heart 
will  reject  the  vanities  and  baubles  that  engross  most 
women ;  how  long  mere  abstract  study  will  continue  to 
charm  her;  and  I  tremble  when  I  think  of  the  future  to 
which  I  know  she  is  looking  so  eagerly.  Now,  her  emo 
tional  nature  sleeps,  her  heart  is  at  rest — slumbering  also, 
she  is  all  intellect  at  present — giving  her  brain  no  relaxa 
tion.  Ah !  if  it  could  always  be  so.  But  it  will  not !  There 
will  come  a  time,  I  fear,  when  her  fine  mind  and  pure, 
warm  heart  will  be  arrayed  against  each  other,  will  battle 
desperately,  and  one  or  the  other  must  be  subordinated." 

"Gordon  seems  to  admire  her  very  much,"  said  Mrs.  Mur 
ray. 

Mr.  Hammond  sighed,  and  a  shadow  crept  over  his 
placid  features,  as  he  answered : 

"Do  you  wonder  at  it,  Ellen?  Can  any  one  know  the 
child  well,  and  fail  to  admire  and  love  her?" 

"If  he  could  only  forget  her  obscure  birth — if  he  could 
only  consent  to  marry  her — what  a  splendid  match  it  would 
be  for  her?" 

"Ellen !  Ellen  Murray !  I  am  surprised  at  you !  Let  me 
beg  of  you  for  her  sake,  for  yours,  for  all  parties  concerned, 
not  to  raise  your  little  finger  in  this  matter ;  not  to  utter  one 
word  to  Edna  that  might  arouse  her  suspicions ;  not  to  hint 
to  Gordon  that  you  dream  such  an  alliance  possible;  for 
there  is  more  at  stake  than  you  imagine " 

He  was  unable  to  conclude  the  sentence,  for  the  dance 
had  ended,  and  as  Edna  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  beloved 
countenance  of  her  teacher,  she  drew  her  fingers  from  Mr. 
Leigh's  arm,  and  hastened  to  the  pastor's  side,  taking  his 
hand  between  both  hers: 

"O,  sir !  I  am  glad  to  see  you.    I  have  looked  around  so 


96  ST.  ELMO. 

often;  hoping  to  catch  sight  of  you.  Mrs.  Murray,  I  heard 
Mrs.  Inge  asking  for  you." 

When  the  lady  walked  away,  Edna  glided  into  the  seat 
next  the  minister,  and  continued: 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  a  change  in  some  of  my 
studies." 

"Wait  till  to-morrow,  my  dear.  I  came  here  to-night 
only  for  a  few  moments,  to  gratify  Gordon  and  now  I  must 
slip  away." 

"But,  sir,  I  only  want  to  say,  that  as  you  objected  at  the 
outset  to  my  studying  Hebrew,  I  will  not  waste  any  more 
time  on  it  just  now,  but  take  it  up  again  after  a  while,  when 
I  have  plenty  of  leisure.  Don't  you  think  thai  would  be  the 
best  plan?" 

"My  child,  are  you  tired  of  Hebrew?" 

"No,  sir ;  on  the  contrary,  it  possesses  a  singular  fascina 
tion  for  me;  but  I  think,  if  you  are  willing,  I  shall  discon 
tinue  it — at  least,  for  the  present.  I  shall  take  care  to  for 
get  nothing  that  I  have  already  learned." 

"You  have  some  special  reason  for  this  change,  I  pre 
sume  ?" 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  and  said  frankly: 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have." 

"Very  well,  my  dear,  do  as  you  like.    Good-night." 

"I  wish  I  could  go  now  with  you." 

"Why?  I  thought  you  appeared  to  enjoy  your  dance 
very  much.  Edna,  look  at  me." 

She  hesitated — then  obeyed  him,  and  he  saw  tears  glis 
tening  on  her  long  lashes. 

Very  quietly  the  old  man  drew  her  arm  through  his,  and 
led  her  out  on  the  dim  veranda,  where  only  an  occasional 
couple  promenaded. 

"Something  troubles  you,  Edna.  Will  you  confide  in 
me?" 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  occupying  a  false  position  here,  and 
yet  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  extricate  myself  without  dis 
pleasing  Mrs.  Murray,  whom  I  can  not  bear  to  offend — she 
is  so  very  kind  and  generous." 

"Explain  yourself,  my  dear." 

"You  know  that  I  have  not  a  cent  in  the  world  except 


ST.  ELMO.  97 

what  Mrs.  Murray  gives  me.  I  shall  have  to  make  my 
bread  by  my  own  work  just  as  soon  as  you  think  me  com 
petent  to  teach;  and  notwithstanding,  she  thinks  I  ought 
to  visit  and  associate  as  she  does  with  these  people,  who 
tolerate  me  now,  simply  because  they  know  that  while  I  am 
under  her  roof  she  will  exact  it  of  them.  To-night,  during 
the  dance,  I  heard  two  of  her  fashionable  friends  criticis 
ing  and  sneering  at  me;  ridiculing  her  for  'attempting  to 
smuggle  that  spoiled  creature  of  unknown  parentage  and 
doubtless  low  origin  into  really  first  circles.'  Other  things 
were  said  which  I  can  not  repeat,  that  showed  me  plainly 
how  I  am  regarded  here,  and  I  will  not  remain  in  a  posi 
tion  which  subjects  me  to  such  remarks.  Mrs.  Murray 
thought  it  best  for  me  to  come ;  but  it  was  a  mistaken  kind 
ness.  I  thought  so  before  I  came — now  I  have  irrefragable 
proof  that  I  was  right  in  my  forebodings." 

"Can  you  not  tell  me  all  that  was  said  ?" 

"I  shrink,  sir,  from  repeating  it,  even  to  you." 

"Did  Mr.  Leigh  hear  it?" 

"I  hope  not." 

"My  dear  child,  I  am  very  much  pained  to  learn  that  you 
have  been  so  cruelly  wounded ;  but  do  not  let  your  mind 
dwell  upon  it;  those  weak,  heartless,  giddy  people  are  to  be 
pitied,  are  beneath  your  notice.  Try  to  fix  your  thoughts 
on  nobler  themes,  and  waste  no  reflection  on  the  idle  words 
of  those  poor  gilded  moths  of  fashion  and  folly,  who  are 
incapable  of  realizing  their  own  degraded  and  deplorable 
condition." 

"I  do  not  care  particularly  what  they  think  of  me,  but 
I  am  anxious  to  avoid  hearing  their  comments  upon  me, 
and  therefore  I  am  determined  to  keep  as  much  out  of  sight 
as  possible.  I  shall  try  to  do  my  duty  in  all  things,  and 
poverty  is  no  stigma,  thank  God!  My  grandfather  was  very 
poor,  but  he  was  noble  and  honest,  and  as  courteous  as  a 
nobleman;  and  I  honor  his  dear,  dear  memory  as  tenderly 
as  if  he  had  been  reared  in  a  palace.  I  am  not  ashamed  of 
my  parentage,  for  my  father  was  as  honest  and  industrious 
as  he  was  poor,  and  my  mother  was  as  gentle  and  good  as 
she  was  beautiful." 

There  was  no  faltering  in  the  sweet  voice,  and  no  bitter- 


98  ST.  ELMO. 

ness  poisoning  it.     Mr.  Hammond  could  not  see  the  face 
but  the  tone  indexed  all,  and  he  was  satisfied. 

"I  am  glad,  my  dear  little  Edna,  that  you  look  at  the  truth 
so  bravely,  and  give  no  more  importance  to  the  gossip  than 
your  future  peace  of  mind  demands.  If  you  have  any  diffi 
culty  in  convincing  Mrs.  Murray  of  the  correctness  of  your 
views,  let  me  know,  and  I  will  speak  to  her  on  the  subject. 
Good-night !  May  God  watch  over  and  bless  you !" 

When  the  orphan  reentered  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Inge  pre 
sented  her  to  several  gentlemen  who  had  requested  an  in 
troduction  ;  and  though  her  heart  was  heavy,  and  her  cheeks 
burned  painfully,  she  exerted  herself,  and  danced  and  talked 
constantly  until  Mrs.  Murray  announced  herself  ready  to 
depart. 

Joyfully  Edna  ran  upstairs  for  her  wrappings,  bade  adieu 
to  her  hostess,  who  complimented  her  on  the  sensation  her 
beauty  had  created ;  and  felt  relieved  and  comparatively 
happy  when  the  carriage-door  closed  and  she  found  herself 
alone  with  her  benefactress. 

"Well,  Edna,  notwithstanding  your  repugnance  to  going, 
you  acquitted  yourself  admirably,  and  seemed  to  have  a  de 
lightful  time." 

"I  thank  you,  ma'am,  for  doing  all  in  your  power  to  make 
the  evening  agreeable  to  me.  I  think  your  kind  desire  to 
see  me  enjoy  the  party  made  me  happier  than  everything 
else." 

Gratefully  she  drew  Mrs.  Murray's  hand  to  her  lips,  and 
the  latter  little  dreamed  that  at  that  instant  tears  were  roll 
ing  over  the  flushed  face,  while  the  words  of  the  conversa 
tion  which  she  had  overheard  rang  mockingly  in  her  ears: 

"Mrs.  Murray  and  even  Mr.  Hammond  are  scheming  to 
make  a  match  between  her  and  Gordon  Leigh.  Studying 
Hebrew  indeed !  A  likely  story !  She  had  better  go  back 
to  her  wash-tub  and  spinning-wheel!  Much  Hebrew  she 
will  learn !  Her  eyes  are  set  on  Gordon's  fortune,  and  Mrs. 
Murray  is  silly  enough  to  think  he  will  step  into  the  trap. 
She  will  have  to  bait  it  with  something  better  than  Hebrew 
and  black  eyes,  or  she  will  miss  her  game.  Gordon  will 
make  a  fool  of  her,  I  dare  say,  for,  like  all  other  young 
men,  he  can  be  flattered  into  paying  her  some  little  attention 


ST.  ELMO. 


99 


at  first.  I  am  surprised  at  Mrs.  Inge  to  countenance  the 
girl  at  all." 

Such  was  the  orphan's  initiation  into  the  charmed  circle 
of  fashionable  society;  such  her  welcome  to  le  bean  monde. 

As  she  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow,  she  could  not  avoid 


exclaiming : 


"Heaven  save  me  from  such  aristocrats !  and  commit  me 
rather  to  the  horny  but  outstretched  hands,  the  brawny 
arms,  the  untutored  minds,  the  simple  but  kindly-throbbing 
hearts  of  proletaire!" 


CHAPTER    X. 

WHEN  Mr.  Hammond  mentioned  Edna's  determination 
to  discontinue  Hebrew,  Mr.  Leigh  expressed  no  surprise, 
asked  no  explanation,  but  the  minister  noticed  that  he  bit 
his  lip,  and  beat  a  hurried  tattoo  with  the  heel  of  his  boot 
on  the  stony  hearth;  and  as  he  studiously  avoided  all  allu 
sion  to  her,  he  felt  assured  that  the  conversation  which  she 
had  overheard  must  have  reached  the  ears  of  her  partner 
also,  and  supplied  him  with  a  satisfactory  solution  of  her 
change  of  purpose.  For  several  weeks  Edna  saw  nothing 
of  her  quondam  schoolmate;  and  fixing  her  thoughts  more 
firmly  than  ever  on  her  studies,  the  painful  recollection  of 
the  birthday  fete  was  lowly  fading  from  her  mind,  when 
one  morning,  as  she  was  returning  from  the  parsonage,  Mr. 
Leigh  joined  her,  and  asked  permission  to  attend  her  home. 
The  sound  of  his  voice,  the  touch  of  his  hand,  brought  back 
all  the  embarrassment  and  constraint,  and  called  up  the 
flush  of  confusion  so  often  attributed  to  other  sources  than 
that  from  which  it  really  springs. 

After  a  few  commonplace  remarks,  he  asked: 

"When  is  Mr.  Murray  coming  home?" 

"I  have  no  idea.     Even  his  mother  is  ignorant  of  his 
plans." 

"How  long  has  he  been  absent?" 

"Four  years  to-day." 

"Indeed!  so  long?    Where  is  he?" 

"I  believe  his  last  letter  was  written  at  Edfu,  and  he  said 
nothing  about  returning." 

"What  do  you  think  of  his  singular  character?" 

"I  know  almost  nothing  about  him,  as  I  was  too  young 
when  I  saw  him  to  form  an  estimate  of  him." 

"Do  you  not  correspond?" 

Edna  looked  up  with  itnfeigngd  astonishment,  and  could 
not  avoid  smiling  at  the  inquiry. 

"Certainly  not." 


ST.  ELMO.  101 

A  short  silence  followed,  and  then  Mr.  Leigh  said: 

"Do  you  not  frequently  ride  on  horseback?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Will  you  permit  me  to  accompany  you  to-morrow  after 
noon  ?" 

"I  have  promised  to  make  a  visit  with  Mr.  Hammond." 

"To-morrow  morning  then,  before  breakfast?" 

She  hesitated — the  blush  deepened,  and  after  a  brief 
struggle,  she  said  hurriedly : 

"Please  excuse  me,  Mr.  Leigh ;  I  prefer  to  ride  alone." 

He  bowed,  and  was  silent  for  a  minute,  but  she  saw  a 
smile  lurking  about  the  corners  of  his  handsome  mouth, 
threatening  to  run  riot  over  his  features. 

"By  the  by,  Miss  Edna,  I  am  coming  to-night,  to  ask 
your  assistance  in  a  Chaldee  quandary.  For  several  days  I 
have  been  engaged  in  a  controversy  with  Mr.  Hammond 
on  the  old  battlefield  of  ethnology,  and,  in  order  to  estab 
lish  my  position  of  diversity  of  origin,  have  been  compar 
ing  the  Septuagint  with  some  passages  from  the  Talmud.  I 
heard  you  say  that  there  was  a  Rabbinical  Targum  in  the 
library  at  Le  Bocage,  and  I  must  beg  you  to  examine  it  for 
me,  and  ascertain  whether  it  contains  any  comments  on 
the  first  chapter  of  Genesis.  Somewhere  in  my  most  de 
sultory  reading  I  have  seen  it  stated  that  in  some  of  those 
early  Targums  was  the  declaration,  that  'God  originally 
created  men  red,  white  and  black.'  Mr.  Hammond  is  char 
itable  enough  to  say  that  I  must  have  smoked  an  extra 
cigar,  and  dreamed  the  predicate  I  am  so  anxious  to  authen 
ticate.  Will  you  oblige  me  by  searching  for  the  passage?" 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Leigh,  with  great  pleasure ;  though  per 
haps  you  would  prefer  to  take  the  book  and  look  through  it 
yourself?  My  knowledge  of  Chaldee  is  very  limited." 

"Pardon  me!  my  mental  vis  inertia;  vetoes  the  bare  sug 
gestion.  I  study  by  proxy  whether  an  opportunity  offers, 
for  laziness  is  the  only  hereditary  taint  in  the  Leigh  blood." 

"As  I  am  very  much  interested  in  this  ethnological  ques 
tion,  I  shall  enter  into  the  search  with  great  eagerness." 

"Thank  you.  Do  you  take  the  unity  or  diversity  side  of 
the  discussion?" 

Her  merry  laugh  rang  otfif*through  the  forest  that  bor 
dered  the  road. 


102  ST.  ELMO. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Leigh!  what  a  ridiculous  question!  I  do  not 
presume  to  take  any  side,  for  I  do  not  pretend  to  under 
stand  or  appreciate  all  the  arguments  advanced;  but  I  am 
anxious  to  acquaint  myself  with  the  bearings  of  the  contro 
versy.  The  idea  of  my  'taking  sides'  on  a  subject  which 
gray-haired  savants  have  spent  their  laborious  lives  in  striv 
ing  to  elucidate  seems  extremely  ludicrous." 

"Still,  you  are  entitled  to  an  idea,  either  pro  or  con,  even 
at  the  outset." 

"I  have  an  idea  that  neither  you  nor  I  know  anything 
about  the  matter;  and  the  per  saltum  plan  of  'taking  sides' 
will  only  add  the  prop  of  prejudice  to  my  ignorance.  If, 
with  all  his  erudition,  Mr.  Hammond  still  abstains  from 
dogmatizing  on  this  subject,  I  can  well  afford  to  hold  my 
crude  opinions  in  abeyance.  I  must  stop  here,  Mr.  Leigh, 
at  Mrs.  Carter's,  on  an  errand  for  Mrs.  Murray.  Good 
morning,  sir;  I  will  hunt  the  passage  you  require." 

"How  have  I  offended  you,  Miss  Edna?" 

He  took  her  hand  and  detained  her. 

"I  am  not  offended,  Mr.  Leigh,"  and  she  drew  back. 

"Why  do  you  dismiss  me  in  such  a  cold,  unfriendly 
way?" 

"If  I  sometimes  appear  rude,  pardon  my  unfortunate 
manner,  and  believe  that  it  results  from  no  unfriendliness." 

"You  will  be  at  home  this  evening?" 

"Yes,  sir,  unless  something  very  unusual  occurs." 

They  parted,  and  during  the  remainder  of  the  walk  Edna 
could  think  of  nothing  but  the  revelation  written  in  Gorr 
don  Leigh's  eyes;  the  immemorial,  yet  ever  new  and  start 
ling  truth,  that  opened  a  new  vista  in  life,  that  told  her  she 
was  no  longer  an  isolated  child,  but  a  woman,  regnant  over 
the  generous  heart  of  one  of  the  pets  of  society. 

She  saw  that  he  intended  her  to  believe  he  loved  her,  and 
suspicious  as  gossips  had  made  her  with  reference  to  his 
conduct,  she  could  not  suppose  he  was  guilty  of  heartless 
and  contemptible  trifling.  She  trusted  his  honor;  yet  the 
discovery  of  his  affection  brought  a  sensation  of  regret — 
of  vague  self-reproach,  and  she  felt  that  in  future  he 
would  prove  a  source  of  endless  disquiet.  Hitherto  she 
had  enjoyed  his  society,  henceforth  she  felt  that  she  must 
shun  it. 


ST.  ELMO. 


103 


She  endeavored  to  banish  the  recollection  of  that  strange 
expression  in  his  generally  laughing  eyes,  and  bent  over  the 
Targum,  hoping  to  cheat  her  thoughts  into  other  channels ; 
but  the  face  would  not  "down  at  her  bidding,"  and  as  the 
day  drew  near  its  close  she  grew  nervous  and  restless. 

The  chandelier  had  been  lighted,  and  Mrs.  Murray  was 
standing  at  the  window  of  the  sitting-room,  watching  for 
the  return  of  a  servant  whom  she  had  sent  to  the  post-office, 
when  Edna  said: 

"I  believe  Mr.  Leigh  is  coming  here  to  tea ;  he  told  me  so 
this  morning." 

"Where  did  you  see  him?" 

"He  walked  with  me  as  far  as  Mrs.  Carter's  gate,  and 
asked  me  to  look  out  a  reference  which  he  thought  I  might 
find  in  one  of  Mr.  Murray's  books." 

Mrs.  Murray  smiled,  and  said : 

"Do  you  intend  to  receive  him  in  that  calico  dress?" 

"Why  not?  I  am  sure  it  is  very  neat;  it  is  perfectly  new, 
and  fits  me  well." 

"And  is  very  suitable  to  wear  to  the  Parsonage,  but  not 
quite  appropriate  when  Gordon  Leigh  takes  tea  here.  You 
will  oblige  me  by  changing  your  dress  and  rearranging  your 
hair,  which  is  twisted  too  loosely." 

When  she  re-entered  the  room,  a  half-hour  later,  Mrs. 
Murray  leaned  against  the  mantelpiece,  with  an  open  letter 
in  her  hand  and  dreary  disappointment  printed  on  her 
face. 

"I  hope  you  have  no  unpleasant  tidings  from  Mr.  Mur 
ray.  May  I  ask  why  you  seem  so  much  depressed?" 

The  mother's  features  twitched  painfully  as  she  restored 
the  letter  to  its  envelope,  and  answered : 

"My  son's  letter  is  dated  Philoe,  just  two  months  ago, 
and  he  says  he  intended  starting  next  day  to  the  interior  of 
Persia.  He  says,  too,  that  he  did  not  expect  to  remain  away 
so  long,  but  finds  that  he  will  probably  be  in  Central  Asia 
for  another  year.  The  only  comforting  thing  in  the  letter 
is  the  assurance  that  he  weighs  more,  and  is  in  better  health, 
than  when  he  left  home." 

The  ringing  of  the  door-bell  announced  Mr.  Leigh's  ar 
rival,  and  as  she  led  the  way  to  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Murray 


IO4 


ST.  ELMO. 


hastily  fastened  a  drooping  spray  of  coral  berries  in  Edna's 
hair. 

Before  tea  was  ended,  other  visitors  came  in,  and  the 
orphan  found  relief  from  her  confusion  in  the  general  con 
versation. 

While  Dr.  Rodney,  the  family  physician,  was  talking  to 
her  about  some  discoveries  of  Ehrenberg,  concerning  which 
she  was  very  curious,  Mr.  Leigh  engrossed  Mrs.  Murray's 
attention,  and  for  some  time  their  conversation  was  exceed 
ingly  earnest;  then  the  latter  rose  and  approached  the  sofa 
where  Edna  sat,  saying  gravely : 

"Edna,  give  me  this  seat,  I  want  to  have  a  little  chat  with 
the  doctor;  and,  by  the  way,  my  dear,  I  believe  Mr.  Leigh 
is  waiting  for  you  to  show  him  some  book  you  promised  to 
find  for  him.  Go  into  the  library — there  is  a  good  fire 
there." 

The  room  was  tempting  indeed  to  students,  and  as  the 
two  sat  down  before  the  glowing  grate,  and  Mr.  Leigh 
glanced  at  the  warm,  rich  curtains  sweeping  from  ceiling  to 
carpet,  the  black-walnut  book-cases  girding  the  walls  on  all 
sides,  and  the  sentinel  bronze  busts  keeping  watch  over  the 
musty  tombs  within,  he  rubbed  his  fingers  and  exclaimed: 

"Certainly  this  is  the  most  delightful  library  in  the  world, 
and  offers  a  premium  for  recluse  life  and  studious  habits. 
How  incomprehensible  it  is  that  Murray  should  prefer  to 
pass  his  years  roaming  over  deserts  and  wandering  about 
neglected,  comfortless  khans,  when  he  might  spend  them  in 
such  an  elysium  as  this !  The  man  must  be  demented !  How 
do  you  explain  the  mystery  ?" 

"Chacun  d  son  gout!  I  consider  it  none  of  my  business, 
and  as  I  suppose  he  is  the  best  judge  of  what  contributes  to 
his  happiness,  I  do  not  meddle  with  the  mystery." 

"Poor  Murray!  his  wretched  disposition  is  a  great  curse. 
I  pity  him  most  sincerely." 

"From  what  I  remember  of  him,  I  am  afraid  he  would 
not  thank  you  for  your  pity,  or  admit  that  he  needed  or 
merited  it.  Here  is  the  Targum,  Mr.  Leigh,  and  here  is  the 
very  passage  you  want." 

She  opened  an  ancient  Chaldee  MSV  and  spreading  it  on 
the  library  table,  they  examined  it  together,  spelling  out  the 
words,  and  turning  frequently  to  a  dictionary  which  lay 


ST.  ELMO.  105 

near.  Neither  knew  much  about  the  language;  now  and 
then  they  differed  in  the  interpretation,  and  more  than  once 
Edna  referred  to  the  rules  of  her  grammar,  to  establish  the 
construction  of  the  sentences. 

Engrossed  in  the  translation,  she  forgot  all  her  apprehen 
sions  of  the  morning,  and  the  old  ease  of  manner  came 
back.  Her  eyes  met  his  fearlessly,  her  smile  greeted  him 
cheerily  as  in  the  early  months  of  their  acquaintance;  and 
while  she  bent  over  the  pages  she  was  deciphering,  his  eyes 
dwelt  on  her  beaming  countenance  with  a  fond,  tender  look, 
that  most  girls  of  her  age  would  have  found  it  hard  to  re 
sist,  and  pleasant  to  recall  in  after  days. 

Neither  suspected  that  an  hour  had  passed,  until  Dr.  Rod 
ney  peeped  into  the  room  and  called  them  back  to  the  parlor, 
to  make  up  a  game  of  whist. 

It  was  quite  late  when  Mr.  Leigh  rose  to  say  good-night ; 
and  as  he  drew  on  his  gloves  he  looked  earnestly  at  Edna, 
and  said : 

"I  am  coming  again  in  a  day  or  two,  to  show  you  some 
plans  for  a  new  house  which  I  intend  to  build  before  long. 
Clara  differs  with  me  about  the  arrangement  of  some 
columns  and  arches,  and  I  shall  claim  you  and  Mrs.  Mur 
ray  for  my  allies  in  this  architectural  war." 

The  orphan  was  silent,  but  the  lady  of  the  house  replied 
promptly : 

"Yes,  come  as  often  as  you  can,  Gordon,  and  cheer  us  up ; 
for  it  is  terribly  dull  here  without  St.  Elmo." 

"Suppose  you  repudiate  that  incorrigible  Vandal  and 
adopt  me  in  his  place  ?  I  would  prove  a  model  son." 

"Very  well.  I  shall  acquaint  him  with  your  proposition, 
and  threaten  an  immediate  compliance  with  it  if  he  does  not 
come  home  soon." 

Mrs.  Murray  rang  the  bell  for  the  servant  to  lock  up  the 
house,  and  said  sotto  voce : 

"What  a  noble  fellow  Gordon  is !  If  I  had  a  daughter  I 
would  select  him  for  her  husband.  Where  are  you  going, 
Edna?" 

"I  left  a  MS.  on  the  library  table,  and  as  it  is  very  rare 
and  valuable  I  want  to  replace  it  in  the  glass  box  where  it 
belongs  before  I  go  to  sleep." 

Lighting  a  candle,   she   lifted  the  heavy  Targum,   and 


106  ST.  ELMO. 

slowly  approached  the  suite  of  rooms,  which  she  was  now 
in  the  habit  of  visiting  almost  daily. 

Earlier  in  the  day  she  had  bolted  the  door,  but  left  the 
key  in  the  lock,  expecting  to  bring  the  Targum  back  as  soon 
as  she  had  shown  Mr.  Leigh  the  controverted  passage. 
Now,  as  she  crossed  the  rotunda,  an  unexpected  sound,  as 
of  a  chair  sliding  on  the  marble  floor,  seemed  to  issue  from 
the  inner  room,  and  she  paused  to  listen.  Under  the  flare 
of  the  candle  the  vindictive  face  of  Siva,  and  the  hooded 
viper  twined  about  his  arm,  looked  more  hideous  than  ever, 
warning  her  not  to  approach,  yet  all  was  silent,  save  the 
tinkling  of  a  bell  far  down  in  the  park,  where  the  sheep 
clustered  under  the  cedars.  Opening  the  door,  which  was 
ajar,  she  entered,  held  the  light  high  over  her  head,  and 
peered  a  little  nervously  around  the  room ;  but,  here,  too,  all 
was  quiet  as  the  grave,  and  quite  as  dreary,  and  the  only 
moving  thing  seemed  her  shadow,  that  flitted  slightly  as  the 
candle-light  flickered  over  the  cold,  gleaming  white  tiles. 
The  carpets  and  curtains — even  the  rich  silk  hangings  of  the 
arch — were  all  packed  away,  and  Edna  shivered  as  she 
looked  through  both  rooms,  satisfied  herself  that  she  had 
mistaken  the  source  of  the  sound,  and  opened  the  box  where 
the  MSS.  were  kept. 

At  sight  of  them  her  mind  reverted  to  the  theme  she  had 
been  investigating,  and  happening  to  remember  the  im 
portance  attached  by  ethnologists  to  the  early  Coptic  in 
scriptions,  she  took  from  the  book-shelves  a  volume  contain 
ing  copies  of  many  of  these  characters,  and  drawings  of  the 
triumphal  processions  carved  on  granite,  and  representing 
the  captives  of  various  nations  torn  from  their  homes  to 
swell  the  pompous  retinue  of  some  barbaric  Rhamses  or 
Sesostris. 

Drifting  back  over  the  gray,  waveless,  tideless  sea  of  cen 
turies,  she  stood,  in  imagination,  upon  the  steps  of  the 
Serapeum  at  Memphis;  and  when  the  wild  chant  of  the 
priests  had  died  away  under  the  huge  propylseum,  she  lis 
tened  to  the  sighing  of  the  tamarinds  and  cassias,  and  the 
low  babble  of  the  sacred  Nile,  as  it  rocked  the  lotus-leaves, 
under  the  glowing  purple  sky,  whence  a  full  moon  flooded 
the  ancient  city  with  light,  and  kindled  like  a  beacon  the 
vast  placid  face  of  the  Sphinx — rising  solemn  and  lonely 


ST.  ELMO.  107 

and  weird  from  its  desert  lair — and  staring  blankly,  hope 
lessly  across  arid  yellow  sands  at  the  dim  colossi  of  old 
Misraim. 

Following  the  sinuous  stream  of  Coptic  civilization  to  its 
inexplicable  source  in  the  date-groves  of  Meroe,  the  girl's 
thoughts  were  borne  away  to  the  Golden  Fountain  of  the 
Sun,  where  Ammon's  black  doves  fluttered  and  cooed  over 
the  shining  altars  and  amid  the  mystic  symbols  of  the  mar 
velous  friezes. 

As  Edna  bent  over  the  drawings  in  the  book,  oblivious 
for  a  time  of  everything  else,  she  suddenly  became  aware  of 
the  presence  of  some  one  in  the  room,  for  though  perfect 
stillness  reigned,  there  was  a  consciousness  of  companion 
ship,  of  the  proximity  of  some  human  being,  and  with  a 
start  she  looked  up,  expecting  to  meet  a  pair  of  eyes  fas 
tened  upon  her.  But  no  living  thing  confronted  her — the 
tall,  bent  figure  of  the  Cimbri  Prophetess  gleamed  ghostly 
white  upon  the  wall,  and  the  bright  blue  augurous  eyes 
seemed  to  count  the  dripping  blood-drops  ;  and  the  unbroken, 
solemn  silence  of  night  brooded  over  all  things,  hushing 
even  the  chime  of  sheep-bells,  that  had  died  away  among  the 
elm  arches.  Knowing  that  no  superstitious  terrors  had  ever 
seized  her  heretofore,  the  young  student  rose,  took  up  the 
candle,  and  proceeded  to  search  the  two  rooms,  but  as  un 
successfully  as  before. 

"There  certainly  is  somebody  here,  but  I  can  not  find  out 
where." 

These  words  were  uttered  aloud,  and  the  echo  of  her  own 
voice  seemed  sepulchral;  then  the  chill  silence  again  fell 
upon  her.  She  smiled  at  her  own  folly,  and  thought  her 
imagination  had  been  unduly  excited  by  the  pictures  she  had 
been  examining,  and  that  the  nervous  shiver  that  crept  over 
her  was  the  result  of  the  cold.  Just  then  the  candle-light 
flashed  over  the  black  marble  statuette,  grinning  horribly  as 
it  kept  guard  over  the  Taj  Mahal.  Edna  walked  up  to  it, 
placed  the  candle  on  the  slab  that  supported  the  tomb,  and, 
stooping,  scrutinized  the  lock.  A  spider  had  ensconced  him 
self  in  the  golden  receptacle,  and  spun  a  fine  web  across  the 
front  of  the  temple,  and  Edna  swept  the  airy  drapery  away, 
and  tried  to  drive  the  little  weaver  from  his  den ;  but  he 
shrank  further  and  further,  and  finally  she  took  the  key 


108  ST.  ELMO. 

from  her  pocket  and  put  it  far  enough  into  the  opening  to 
eject  the  intruder,  who  slung  himself  down  one  of  the  silken 
threads,  and  crawled  sullenly  out  of  sight.  Withdrawing 
the  key,  she  toyed  with  it,  and  glanced  curiously  at  the  mau 
soleum.  Taking  her  handkerchief,  she  carefully  brushed 
off  the  cobwebs  that  festooned  the  minarets,  and  murmured 
that  fragment  of  Persian  poetry  which  she  once  heard  the 
absent  master  repeat  to  his  mother,  and  which  she  had  found, 
only  a  few  days  before,  quoted  by  an  Eastern  traveller: 
"The  spider  hath  woven  his  web  in  the  imperial  palaces; 
and  the  own  hath  sung  her  watch-song  on  the  towers  of 
Afrasiab." 

"It  is  exactly  four  years  to-night  since  Mr.  Murray  gave 
me  this  key,  but  he  charged  me  not  to  open  the  Taj  unless  I 
had  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  dead.  His  letter  states 
that  he  is  alive  and  well ;  consequently,  the  time  has  not  come 
for  me  to  unseal  the  mystery.  It  is  strange  that  he  trusted 
me  with  this  secret;  strange  that  he,  who  doubts  all  of  his 
race,  could  trust  a  child  of  whom  he  really  knew  so  little. 
Certainly  it  must  have  been  a  singular  freak  which  gave  this 
affair  into  my  keeping,  but  at  least  I  will  not  betray  the  con 
fidence  he  reposed  in  me.  With  the  contents  of  that  vault  I 
can  have  no  concern,  and  yet  I  wish  the  key  was  safely  back 
in  his  hands.  It  annoys  me  to  conceal  it,  and  I  feel  all  the 
while  as  if  I  were  deceiving  his  mother." 

These  words  were  uttered  half  unconsciously  as  she  fin 
gered  the  key,  and  for  a  few  seconds  she  stood  there,  think 
ing  of  the  master  of  the  house,  wondering  what  luckless  in 
fluence  had  so  early  blackened  and  distorted  his  life,  and 
whether  he  would  probably  return  to  Le  Bocage  before  she 
left  it  to  go  out  and  carve  her  fortune  in  the  world's  noisy 
quarry.  The  light  danced  over  her  countenance  and  form, 
showing  the  rich  folds  of  her  crimson  merino  dress,  with 
the  gossamer  lace  surrounding  her  white  throat  and  dimpled 
wrists;  and  it  seemed  to  linger  caressingly  on  the  shining 
mass  of  black  hair,  on  the  beautiful,  polished  forehead,  the 
firm,  delicate,  scarlet  lips,  and  made  the  large  eyes  look  elfish 
under  their  heavy  jet  lashes. 

Again  the  girl  started  and  glanced  over  her  shoulder,  im 
pressed  with  the  same  tantalizing  conviction  of  a  human 
presence ;  of  some  powerful  influence  which  baffled  analysis. 


ST.  ELMO.  109 

Snatching  the  candle,  she  put  the  gold  key  in  her  pocket, 
and  turned  to  leave  the  room,  but  stopped,  for  this  time  an 
unmistakable  sound  like  the  shivering  of  a  glass  or  the 
snapping  of  a  musical  string,  fell  on  her  strained  ears.  She 
could  trace  it  to  no  particular  spot,  and  conjectured  that  per 
haps  a  mouse  had  taken  up  his  abode  somewhere  in  the 
room,  and,  frightened  by  her  presence,  had  run  against  some 
of  the  numerous  glass  and  china  ornaments  on  the  etagere, 
jostling  them  until  they  jingled.  Replacing  the  book  which 
she  had  taken  from  the  shelves,  and  fastening  the  box  that 
contained  the  MSS.,  she  examined  the  cabinets,  found  them 
securely  closed,  and  then  hurried  out  of  the  room,  locked 
the  door,  took  the  key,  and  went  to  her  own  apartment  with 
nerves  more  unsettled  than  she  felt  disposed  to  confess. 

For  some  time  after  she  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow,  she 
racked  her  brain  for  an  explanation  of  the  singular  sensation 
she  had  experienced,  and  at  last,  annoyed  by  her  restlessness 
and  silly  superstition,  she  was  just  sinking  into  dreams  of 
Ammon  and  Serapis,  when  the  fierce  barking  of  Ali  caused 
her  to  start  up  in  terror.  The  dog  seemed  almost  wild,  run 
ning  frantically  to  and  fro,  howling  and  whining ;  but  finally 
the  sounds  receded,  gradually  quiet  was  restored,  and  Edna 
fell  asleep  soon  after  the  scream  of  the  locomotive  and  the 
rumble  of  the  cars  told  her  that  the  four  o'clock  train  had 
just  started  to  Chattanooga. 

Modern  zoologic  science  explodes  the  popular  fallacy  that 
chameleons  assume,  and  reflect  at  will,  the  color  of  the  sub 
stance  on  which  they  rest  or  feed;  but,  with  a  profound 
salaam  to  savants,  it  is  respectfully  submitted  that  the  mental 
saurian — human  thought — certainly  takes  its  changing  hues, 
day  by  day,  from  the  books  through  which  it  crawls  devour 
ingly. 

Is  there  not  ground  for  plausible  doubt  that,  if  the  work 
bench  of  Mezzofanti  had  not  stood  just  beneath  the 
teacher's  window,  whence  the  ears  of  the  young  carpenter 
were  regaled  from  morning  till  night  with  the  rudiments  of 
Latin  and  Greek,  he  would  never  have  forsworn  planing  fof 
parsing,  mastered  forty  dialects,  proved  a  walking  scarlet- 
capped  polygot,  and  attained  the  distinction  of  an  honorary 
nomination  for  the  office  of  interpreter-general  at  the  Tower 
of  Babel? 


IIO  ST.  ELMO. 

The  hoary  associations  and  typical  significance  of  the 
numerous  relics  that  crowded  Mr.  Murray's  rooms  seized 
upon  Edna's  fancy,  linked  her  sympathies  with  the  huge 
pantheistic  systems  of  the  Orient,  and  filled  her  mind  with 
waifs  from  the  dusky  realm  of  a  mythology  that  seemed  to 
antedate  all  the  authentic  chronological  computations  of 
man.  To  the  East,  the  mighty  alma  mater  of  the  human 
races — of  letters,  religions,  arts,  and  politics,  her  thoughts 
wandered  in  wondering  awe;  and  Belzoni,  Burckhardt, 
Layard,  and  Champollion  were  hierophants  of  whose  teach 
ings  she  never  wearied.  As  day  by  day  she  yielded  more 
and  more  to  this  fascinating  nepenthe  influence,  and  bent 
over  the  granite  sarcophagus  in  one  corner  of  Mr.  Mur 
ray's  museum,  where  lay  a  shrunken  mummy  shrouded  in 
gilded  byssus,  the  wish  strengthened  to  understand  the  sym 
bols  in  which  subtle  Egyptian  priests  masked  their  theogony. 

While  morning  and  afternoon  hours  were  given  to  those 
branches  of  study  in  which  Mr.  Hammond  guided  her,  she 
generally  spent  the  evening  in  Mr.  Murray's  sitting-room, 
and  sometimes  the  clock  in  the  rotunda  struck  midnight  be 
fore  she  locked  up  the  MSS.  and  illuminated  papyri. 

Two  nights  after  the  examination  of  the  Targum,  she 
was  seated  near  the  book-case  looking  over  the  plates  in  that 
rare  but  very  valuable  volume,  Spence's  Polymetis,  when 
the  idea  flashed  across  her  mind  that  a  rigid  analysis  and 
comparison  of  all  the  mythologies  of  the  world  would  throw 
some  light  on  the  problem  of  ethnology,  and  in  conjunction 
with  philology  settle  the  vexed  question. 

Pushing  the  Polymetis  aside,  she  sprang  up  and  paced  the 
long  room,  and  gradually  her  eyes  kindled,  her  cheeks 
burned,  as  ambition  pointed  to  a  possible  future,  of  which, 
till  this  hour,  she  had  not  dared  to  dream ;  and  hope,  o'erleap- 
ing  all  barriers,  grasped  a  victory  that  would  make  her  name 
imperishable. 

In  her  miscellaneous  reading  she  had  stumbled  upon 
singular  correspondences  in  the  customs  and  religions  of 
nations  separated  by  surging  oceans  and  by  ages ;  nations 
whose  aboriginal  records  appeared  to  prove  them  distinct, 
and  certainly  furnished  no  hint  of  an  ethnological  bridge 
over  which  traditions  traveled  and  symbolisms  crept  in  satin 


ST.  ELMO.  Ill 

sandals.  During  the  past  week  several  of  these  coincidences 
had  attracted  her  attention. 

The  Druidic  rites  and  the  festival  of  Beltein  in  Scotland 
and  Ireland,  she  found  traced  to  their  source  in  the  worship 
of  Phrygian  Baal.  The  figure  of  the  Scandinavian  Disa,  at 
Upsal,  enveloped  in  a  net  precisely  like  that  which  surrounds 
some  statues  of  Isis  in  Egypt.  The  man  of  rush  sails  used 
by  the  Peruvians  on  Lake  Titicaca,  and  their  mode  of 
handling  them,  pronounced  identical  with  that  which  is  seen 
upon  the  sepulchre  of  Ramses  III.  at  Thebes.  The  head  of 
a  Mexican  priestess  ornamented  with  a  veil  similar  to  that 
carved  on  Eastern  sphinxes,  while  the  robes  resembled  those 
of  a  Jewish  high-priest.  A  very  quaint  and  puzzling  pic 
torial  chart  of  the  chronology  of  the  Aztecs  contained  an 
image  of  Coxcox  in  his  ark,  surrounded  by  rushes  similar 
to  those  that  overshadowed  Moses,  and  also  a  likeness  of  a 
dove  distributing  tongues  to  those  born  after  the  deluge. 

Now,  the  thought  of  carefully  gathering  up  these  vague 
mythologic  links,  and  establishing  a  chain  of  unity  that 
would  girdle  the  world,  seized  and  mastered  her,  as  if  verita 
bly  clothed  with  all  the  power  of  a  bath  kol. 

To  firmly  grasp  the  Bible  for  a  talisman,  as  Ulysses  did 
the  sprig  of  moly,  and  to  stand  in  the  Pantheon  of  the  uni 
verse,  examining  every  shattered  idol  and  crumbling,  defiled 
altar,  where  worshipping  humanity  had  bowed;  to  tear  the 
veil  from  oracles  and  sibyls,  and  show  the  world  that  the 
true,  good  and  beautiful  of  all  theogonies  and  cosmogonies, 
of  every  system  of  religion  that  had  waxed  and  waned  since 
the  gray  dawn  of  time,  could  be  traced  to  Moses  and  to 
Jesus,  seemed  to  her  a  mission  grander  far  than  the  conquest 
of  empires,  and  infinitely  more  to  be  desired  than  the  crown 
and  heritage  of  Solomon. 

The  night  wore  on  as  she  planned  the  work  of  coming 
years,  but  she  still  walked  up  and  down  the  floor,  with  slow, 
uncertain  steps,  like  one  who,  peering  at  distant  objects,  sees 
nothing  close  at  hand.  Flush  and  tremor  passed  from  her 
countenance,  leaving  the  features  pale  and  fixed  ;  for  the  first 
gush  of  enthusiasm,  like  the  jets  of  violet  flame  flickering 
over  the  simmering  mass  in  alchemic  crucibles,  had  vanished 
— the  thought  was  a  crystalized  and  consecrated  purpose. 

At  last,  when  the  feeble  light  admonished  her  that  she 


112  ST.  ELMO. 

would  soon  be  in  darkness,  she  retreated  to  her  own  room, 
and  the  first  glimmer  of  day  struggled  in  at  her  window  as 
she  knelt  at  her  bedside  praying : 

"Be  pleased,  O  Lord!  to  make  me  a  fit  instrument  for 
Thy  work;  sanctify  my  heart;  quicken  and  enlighten  my 
mind;  grant  me  patience  and  perseverance  and  unwavering 
faith ;  guide  me  into  paths  that  lead  to  truth ;  enable  me  in 
all  things  to  labor  with  an  eye  single  to  thy  glory,  caring 
less  for  the  applause  of  the  world  than  for  the  advancement 
of  the  cause  of  Christ.  O  my  Father  and  my  God !  bless  the 
work  on  which  I  am  about  to  enter,  crown  it  with  success, 
accept  me  as  an  humble  tool  for  the  benefit  of  my  race,  and 
when  the  days  of  my  earthly  pilgrimage  are  ended,  receive 
my  soul  into  that  eternal  rest  which  Thou  hast  prepared 
from  the  foundations  of  the  world,  for  the  sake  of  Jesus 
Christ." 


CHAPTER  XL 

ONE  afternoon  about  a  week  after  Mr.  Leigh's  last  visit, 
as  Edna  returned  from  the  parsonage,  where  she  had  been 
detained  beyond  the  usual  time,  Mrs.  Murray  placed  in  her 
hand  a  note  from  Mrs.  Inge,  inviting  both  to  dine  with  her 
that  day,  and  meet  some  distinguished  friends  from  a  distant 
State.  Mrs.  Murray  had  already  completed  an  elaborate 
toilet,  and  desired  Edna  to  lose  no  time  in  making  the  re 
quisite  changes  in  her  own  dress.  The  latter  took  off  her 
hat,  laid  her  books  down  on  a  table  and  said: 

"Please  offer  my  excuses  to  Mrs.  Inge.  I  can  not  accept 
the  invitation,  and  hope  you  will  not  urge  me." 

"Nonsense!  Let  me  hear  no  more  such  childish  stuff, 
and  get  ready  at  once ;  we  shall  be  too  late,  I  am  afraid." 

The  orphan  leaned  against  the  mantelpiece  and  shook  her 
head. 

Mrs.  Murray  colored  angrily  and  drew  herself  up 
haughtily. 

"Edna  Earl,  did  you  hear  what  I  said?" 

"Yes,  madam,  but  this  time  I  cannot  obey  you.  Allow 
me  to  give  you  my  reasons,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  forgive 
what  may  now  seem  mere  obstinacy.  On  the  night  of  the 
party  given  by  Mrs.  Inge  I  determined,  under  no  circum 
stances,  to  accept  any  future  invitations  to  her  house,  for  I 
overheard  a  conversation  between  Mrs.  Hill  and  Mrs.  Mont 
gomery  which  I  believe  was  intended  to  reach  my  ears,  and 
consequently  wounded  and  mortified  me  very  much.  I  was 
ridiculed  and  denounced  as  a  'poor  upstart  and  interloper,' 
who  was  being  smuggled  into  society  far  above  my  position 
in  life,  and  pronounced  an  avaricious  schemer,  intent  on 
thrusting  myself  upon  Mr.  Leigh's  notice,  and  ambitious  of 
marrying  him  for  his  fortune.  They  sneered  at  the  idea  that 
we  should  study  Hebrew  with  Mr.  Hammond,  and  declared 
it  a  mere  trap  to  catch  Mr.  Leigh.  Now,  Mrs.  Murray,  you 
know  that  I  never  had  such  a  thought,  and  the  bare  mention 

[H3] 


114 


ST.  ELMO. 


of  a  motive  so  sordid,  contemptible,  and  unwomanly  sur 
prised  and  disgusted  me ;  but  I  resolved  to  study  Hebrew  by 
myself,  and  to  avoid  meeting  Mr.  Leigh  at  the  parsonage ; 
for  if  his  sister's  friends  entertain  such  an  opinion  of  me,  I 
know  not  what  other  people,  and  even  Mrs.  Inge,  may  think. 
Those  two  ladies  added  some  other  things  equally  unpleas 
ant  and  untrue,  and  as  I  see  that  they  are  also  invited  to 
dine  to-day,  it  would  be  very  disagreeable  for  me  to  meet 
them  in  Mr.  Leigh's  presence." 

Mrs.  Murray  frowned,  and  her  lips  curled,  as  she  clasped 
a  diamond  bracelet  on  her  arm. 

"I  have  long  since  ceased  to  be  surprised  by  any  manifes 
tation  of  Mrs.  Montgomery's  insolence.  She  doubtless 
judges  your  motives  by  those  of  her  snub-nosed  and  ex 
cruciatingly  fashionable  daughter,  Maud,  who  rumor  says, 
is  paying  most  devoted  attention  to  that  same  fortune  of 
Gordon's.  I  shall  avail  myself  of  the  first  suitable  occasion 
to  suggest  to  her  that  it  is  rather  unbecoming  in  persons 
whose  fathers  were  convicted  of  forgery,  and  hunted  out  of 
the  State,  to  lay  such  stress  on  the  mere  poverty  of  young 
aspirants  for  admission  into  society.  I  have  always  noticed 
that  people  (women  especially)  whose  lineage  is  enveloped 
in  a  certain  twilight  haze,  constitute  themselves  guardians  of 
the  inviolability  of  their  pretentious  cliques,  and  fly  at  the 
throats  of  those  who,  they  imagine,  desire  to  enter  their 
fashionable  set — their  'mutual  admiration  association.'  As 
for  Mrs.  Hill,  whose  parents  were  positively  respectable, 
even  genteel,  I  expected  less  nervousness  from  her  on  the 
subject  of  genealogy,  and  should  have  given  her  credit  for 
more  courtesy  and  less  malice;  but,  poor  thing,  nature  de 
nied  her  any  individuality,  and  she  serves  'her  circle'  in  the 
same  capacity  as  one  of  those  tin  reflectors  fastened  on 
locomotives.  All  that  you  heard  was  excessively  ill-bred, 
and  in  really  good  society  ill-breeding  is  more  iniquitous 
than  ill-nature;  but,  however  annoying,  it  is  beneath  your 
notice,  and  unworthy  of  consideration.  I  would  not  gratify 
them  by  withdrawing  from  a  position  which  you  can  so 
gracefully  occupy." 

"It  is  no  privation  to  me  to  stay  at  home ;  on  the  contrary, 
I  prefer  it,  for  I  would  not  exchange  the  companionship  of 


ST.  ELMO.  115 

the  books  in  this  house  for  all  the  dinners  that  ever  were 
given." 

"There  is  no  necessity  for  you  to  make  a  recluse  of  your 
self  simply  because  two  rude,  silly  gossips  disgrace  them 
selves.  You  have  time  enougn  to  read  and  study,  and  still 
go  out  with  me  when  I  consider  it  advisable." 

"But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Murray,  my  position  in  your  family, 
as  an  unknown  dependent  on  your  charity,  subjects  me 
to " 

"Is  a  matter  which  does  not  concern  Mesdames  Hill  and 
Montgomery,  as  I  shall  most  unequivocally  intimate  to  them. 
I  insist  upon  the  dismissal  of  the  whole  affair  from  your 
mind.  How  much  longer  do  you  intend  to  keep  me  wait- 
ing?" 

"I  am  very  sorry  you  cannot  view  the  subject  from  my 
standpoint,  but  hereafter  I  cannot  accompany  you  to  dinners 
and  parties.  Whenever  you  desire  me  to  see  company  in 
your  own  house,  I  shall  be  glad  to  comply  with  your  wishes 
and  commands;  but  my  self-respect  will  not  permit  me  to  go 
out  to  meet  people  who  barely  tolerate  me  through  fear  of 
offending  you.  It  is  exceedingly  painful,  dear  Mrs.  Murray, 
for  me  to  have  to  appear  disrespectful  and  stubborn  toward 
you,  but  in  this  instance  I  can  not  comply  with  your  wishes." 

They  looked  at  each  other  steadily,  and  Mrs.  Murray's 
brow  cleared  and  her  lip  unbent. 

"What  do  you  expect  me  to  tell  Mrs.  Inge?" 

"That  I  return  my  thanks  for  her  very  kind  remembrance, 
but  am  closely  occupied  in  preparing  myself  to  teach,  and 
have  no  time  for  gayeties." 

Mrs.  Murray  smiled  significantly. 

"Do  you  suppose  that  excuse  will  satisfy  your  friend  Gor 
don?  He  will  fly  for  consolation  to  the  stereotyped  smile 
and  delicious  flattery  of  simpering  Miss  Maud." 

"I  care  not  where  he  flies,  provided  I  am  left  in  peace." 

"Stop,  my  dear  child;  you  do  not  mean  what  you  say. 
You  know  very  well  that  you  earnestly  hope  Gordon  will 
escape  the  tender  mercies  of  silly  Maud  and  the  machina 
tions  of  her  most  amiable  mamma ;  if  you  don't,  I  do.  Un 
derstand  that  you  are  not  to  visit  Susan  Montgomery's  sins 
on  Gordon's  head.  I  shall  come  home  early,  and  make  you 
go  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock,  to  punish  you  for  your  obstinacy. 


Ii6  ST.  ELMO. 

By  the  by,  Edna,  Hagar  tells  me  that  you  frequently  sit  up 
till  three  or  four  o'clock,  poring  over  those  heathenish  docu 
ments  in  my  son's  cabinet.  This  is  absurd,  and  will  ruin 
your  health ;  and  beside,  I  doubt  if  what  you  learn  is  worth 
your  trouble.  You  must  not  sit  up  longer  than  ten  o'clock. 
Give  me  my  furs." 

Edna  ate  her  dinner  alone,  and  went  into  the  library  to 
practise  a  difficult  music  lesson;  but  the  spell  of  her  new 
project  was  stronger  than  the  witchery  of  music,  and  closing 
the  piano,  she  ran  into  the  "Egyptian  Museum,"  as  Mrs. 
Murray  termed  her  son's  sitting-room. 

The  previous  night  she  had  been  reading  an  account  of 
the  doctrines  of  Zoroaster,  in  which  there  was  an  attempt  to 
trace  all  the  chief  features  of  the  Zendavesta  to  the  Old 
Testament  and  the  Jews,  and  now  she  returned  to  the  sub 
ject  with  unflagging  interest. 

Pushing  a  cushioned  chair  close  to  the  window,  she 
wrapped  her  shawl  around  her,  put  her  feet  on  the  round 
of  a  neighboring  chair,  to  keep  them  from  the  icy  floor  and 
gave  herself  up  to  the  perusal  of  the  volume. 

The  sun  went  down  in  a  wintry  sky ;  the  solemn  red  light 
burning  on  the  funeral  pyre  of  day  streamed  through  the 
undraped  windows,  flushed  the  fretted  facade  of  the  Taj 
Mahal,  glowed  on  the  marble  floor,  and  warmed  and  bright 
ened  the  serene,  lovely  face  of  the  earnest  young  student. 
As  the  flame  faded  in  the  west,  where  two  stars  leaped  from 
the  pearly  ashes,  the  fine  print  of  Edna's  book  grew  dim, 
and  she  turned  the  page  to  catch  the  mellow,  silvery  radiance 
of  the  full  moon,  which,  shining  low  in  the  east,  threw  a 
ghastly  lustre  on  the  awful  form  and  floating  white  hair  of 
the  Cimbrian  woman  on  the  wall.  But  between  the  orphan 
and  the  light,  close  beside  her  chair,  stood  a  tall,  dark  figure, 
with  uncovered  head  and  outstretched  hands. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  uttering  a  cry  of  mingled  alarm 
and  delight,  for  she  knew  that  erect,  stately  form  and  regal 
head  could  belong  to  but  one  person. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Murray!  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  have  in 
deed  come  home  to  your  sad,  desolate  mother?  Oh!  for 
her  sake  I  am  so  glad !" 

She  had  clasped  her  hands  tightly  in  the  first  instant  of 


ST.  ELMO.  117 

surprise,  and  stood  looking  at  him,  with  fear  and  pleasure 
struggling  for  mastery  in  her  eloquent  countenance. 

"Edna,  have  you  no  word  of  welcome,  no  friendly  hand, 
to  offer  a  man  who  has  been  wandering  for  four  long  years 
among  strangers  in  distant  lands  ?" 

It  was  not  the  harsh,  bitjer  voice  whose  mocking  echoes 
had  haunted  her  ears  during  his  absence,  but  a  tone  so  low 
and  deep  and  mournful,  so  inexplicably  sweet,  and  she  could 
not  recognize  it  as  his,  and,  unable  to  utter  a  word,  she  put 
her  hand  in  his  outstretched  palm.  His  fingers  closed  over 
it  with  a  pressure  that  was  painful,  and  her  eyes  fell  be 
neath  the  steady,  searching  gaze  he  fixed  on  her  face. 

For  fully  a  minute  they  stood  motionless;  then  he  took  a 
match  from  his  pocket,  lighted  a  gas  globe  that  hung  over 
the  Taj,  and  locked  the  door  leading  into  the  rotunda. 

"My  mother  is  dining  out,  Hagar  informed  me.  Tell  me, 
is  she  well  ?  And  have  you  made  her  happy  while  I  was  far 
away  ?" 

He  came  back,  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  carved  top  of  the 
cushioned  chair,  and  partly  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand, 
looked  down  into  the  girl's  face. 

"Your  mother  is  very  well  indeed,  but  anxious  and  un 
happy  on  your  account,  and  I  think  you  will  find  her  thinner 
and  paler  than  when  you  saw  her  last." 

"Then  you  have  not  done  your  duty,  as  I  requested?" 

"I  could  not  take  your  place,  sir,  and  your  last  letter  led 
her  to  believe  that  you  would  be  absent  for  another  year. 
She  thinks  that  at  this  instant  you  are  in  the  heart  of 
Persia.  Last  night,  when  the  servant  came  from  the  post- 
office  without  the  letter  which  she  confidently  expected,  her 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  said,  'He  has  ceased  to  think 
of  his  home,  and  loves  the  excitement  of  travel  better  than 
his  mother's  peace  of  mind.'  Why  did  you  deceive  her? 
Why  did  you  rob  her  of  all  the  joy  of  anticipating  your 
speedy  return?" 

As  she  glanced  at  him,  she  saw  the  old  scowl  settling 
heavily  between  his  eyes,  and  the  harshness  had  crept  back 
to  the  voice  that  answered : 

"I  did  not  deceive  her.  It  was  a  sudden  and  unexpected 
circumstance  that  determined  my  return.  Moreover,  she 
should  long  since  have  accustomed  herself  to  find  happiness 


ng  ST.  ELMO. 

from  other  sources  than  my  society ;  for  no  one  knows  better 
my  detestation  of  settling  down  in  any  fixed  habitation." 

Edna  f«it  all  her  childish  repugnance  sweeping  over  her 
as  she  saw  the  swift  hardening  of  his  features,  and  she 
turned  toward  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going  ?" 

"To  send  a  messenger  to  your  mother,  acquainting  her 
with  your  arrival.  She  would  not  forgive  me  if  I  failed  to 
give  her  such  good  tidings  at  the  very  earliest  moment." 

"You  will  do  no  such  thing.  I  forbid  any  message.  She 
thinks  me  in  the  midst  of  Persian  ruins,  and  can  afford  to 
wait  an  hour  longer  among  her  friends.  How  happened  it 
that  you  also  are  not  at  Mrs.  Inge's?" 

Either  the  suddenness  of  the  question,  or  the  intentness  of 
his  scrutiny,  or  the  painful  consciousness  of  the  true  cause 
of  her  failure  to  accept  the  invitation,  brought  back  the 
blood  which  surprise  had  driven  from  her  cheeks. 

"I  preferred  remaining  at  home." 

"Home!  home!"  he  repeated,  and  continued  vehemently: 
"Do  you  really  expect  me  to  believe  that  a  girl  of  your  age, 
with  the  choice  of  a  dinner-party  among  the  elite,  with  lace, 
silk,  and  feathers,  champagne,  bon-mot,  and  scandal,  flatter 
ing  speeches  and  soft  looks  from  young  gentlemen,  biting 
words  and  hard  looks  from  old  ladies,  or  the  alternative  of 
a  dull,  lonely  evening  in  this  cold,  dreary  den  of  mine,  shut 
up  with  mummies,  MSS.,  and  musty  books,  could  deliberately 
decline  the  former  and  voluntarily  select  the  latter?  Such 
an  anomaly  in  sociology,  such  a  lusus  natures;,  might  occur 
in  Bacon's  'Bensalem,'  or  in  some  undiscovered  and  un- 
imagined  realm,  where  the  men  are  all  brave,  honest,  and 
true,  and  the  women  conscientious  and  constant !  But  here ! 
and  now?  Ah  [pardon  me!  Impossible!" 

Edna  felt  as  if  Momus'  suggestion  to  Vulcan,  of  a  win 
dow  in  the  human  heart,  whereby  one's  thoughts  might  be 
rendered  visible,  had  been  adopted ;  for,  under  the  empaling 
eye  bent  upon  her,  the  secret  motives  of  her  conduct  seemed 
spread  out  as  on  a  scroll,  which  he  read  as  well. 

"I  was  invited  to  Mrs.  Inge's,  yet  you  find  me  here,  be 
cause  I  preferred  a  quiet  evening  at  home  to  a  noisy  one 
elsewhere.  How  do  you  explain  the  contradiction  if  you 
disbelieve  my  words  ?" 


ST.  ELMO. 


119 


"I  am  not  so  inexperienced  as  to  tax  my  ingenuity  with 
any  such  burden.  With  the  Penelope  web  of  female  motives 
may  fates  and  furies  forbid  rash  meddling.  Unless  human 
nature  here  in  America  has  undergone  a  radical  change,  nay, 
a  most  complete  transmogrification,  since  I  abjured  it  some 
years  ago ;  unless  this  year  is  to  be  chronicled  as  an  Avatar 
of  truth  and  unselfishness,  I  will  stake  all  my  possessions 
on  the  assertion  that  some  very  peculiar  and  cogent  reason, 
something  beyond  the  desire  to  prosecute  archaeological  re 
searches,  has  driven  you  to  decline  the  invitation." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  opened  the  book-case  and  re 
placed  the  volume  which  she  had  been  reading ;  and  he  saw 
that  she  glanced  uneasily  toward  the  door,  as  if  longing  to 
escape. 

"Are  you  insulted  at  my  presumption  in  thus  catechising 
you?" 

"I  am  sorry,  sir,  to  find  that  you  have  lost  none  of  your 
cynicism  in  your  travels." 

"Do  you  regard  travelling  as  a  panacea  for  minds  dis 
eased?" 

She  looked  up  and  smiled  in  his  face — a  smile  so  bright 
and  arch  and  merry,  that  even  a  stone  might  have  caught  the 
glow. 

"Certainly  not,  Mr.  Murray,  as  you  are  the  most  incor 
rigible  traveller  I  have  ever  known." 

But  there  was  no  answering  gleam  on  his  darkening  coun 
tenance  as  he  watched  her,  and  the  brief  siknce  that  ensued 
was  annoying  to  his  companion,  who  felt  less  at  ease  every 
moment,  and  convinced  that  with  such  antagonism  of  char 
acter  existing  between  them,  all  her  peaceful,  happy  days  at 
Le  Bocage  were  drawing  to  a  close. 

"Mr.  Murray,  I  am  cold,  and  I  should  like  to  go  to  the 
fire  if  you  have  no  more  questions  to  ask,  and  will  be  so 
kind  as  to  unlock  the  door." 

He  glanced  round  the  room,  and  taking  his  grey  travelling 
shawl  from  a  chair  where  he  had  thrown  it,  laid  it  in  a  heap 
on  the  marble  tiles,  and  said  : 

"Yes,  this  floor  is  icy.  Stand  on  the  shawl,  though  I  am 
well  aware  you  are  more  tired  of  me  than  of  the  room." 

Another  long  pause  followed,  and  then  St.  Elmo  Murray 
came  close  to  his  companion,  saying : 


120  ST.  ELMO. 

"For  four  long  years  I  have  been  making  an  experiment 
— one  of  those  experiments  which  men  frequently  attempt, 
believing  all  the  time  that  it  is  worse  than  child's  play,  and 
half  hoping  that  it  will  prove  so  and  sanction  the  wisdom  of 
their  skepticism  concerning  the  result.  When  I  left  home  I 
placed  in  your  charge  the  key  of  my  private  desk  or  cabinet, 
exacting  the  promise  that  only  upon  certain  conditions  would 
you  venture  to  open  it.  Those  contingencies  have  not  arisen, 
consequently  there  can  be  no  justification  for  your  having 
made  yourself  acquainted  with  the  contents  of  the  vault.  I 
told  you  I  trusted  the  key  in  your  hands;  I  did  not.  I  felt 
assured  you  would  betray  the  confidence.  It  was  not  a  trust 
— it  was  a  temptation,  which  I  believed  no  girl  or  woman 
would  successfully  resist.  I  am  here  to  receive  an  account 
of  your  stewardship,  and  I  tell  you  now  I  doubt  you.  Where 
is  the  key?" 

She  took  from  her  pocket  a  small  ivory  box,  and  opening 
it  drew  out  the  little  key  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"Mr.  Murray,  it  was  a  confidence  which  I  never  solicited, 
which  has  caused  me  much  pain,  because  it  necessitated  con 
cealment  from  your  mother,  but  which — God  is  my  witness 
— I  have  not  betrayed.  There  is  the  key,  but  of  the  contents 
of  the  tomb  I  know  nothing.  It  was  ungenerous  in  you  to 
tempt  a  child  as  you  did ;  to  offer  a  premium  as  it  were  for  a 
violation  of  secrecy,  by  whetting  my  curiosity  and  then  plac 
ing  in  my  own  hands  the  means  of  gratifying  it.  Of  course 
I  have  wondered  what  the  mystery  was,  and  why  you  se 
lected  me  for  its  custodian;  and  I  have  often  wished  to  in 
spect  the  interior  of  that  marble  cabinet;  but  child  though 
I  was,  I  think  I  would  have  gone  to  the  stake  sooner  than 
violate  my  promise." 

As  he  took  the  key  she  observed  that  his  hand  trembled 
and  that  a  sudden  pallor  overspread  his  face. 

"Edna  Earl,  I  give  you  one  last  chance  to  be  truthful  with 
me.  If  you  yielded  to  the  temptation — and  what  woman, 
what  girl,  would  not? — it  would  be  no  more  than  I  really 
expected,  and  you  will  scarcely  have  disappointed  me ;  for, 
as  I  told  you,  I  put  no  faith  in  you.  But  even  if  you  suc 
cumbed  to  a  natural  curiosity,  be  honest  and  confess  it!" 

She  looked  up  steadily  into  his  inquisitorial  eyes,  and  an 
swered  : 


ST.  ELMO.  121 

"I  have  nothing  to  confess." 

He  laid  his  hand  heavily  on  her  shoulder,  and  his  tone 
was  eager,  vehement,  pleading,  tremulous : 

"Can  you  look  me  in  the  eye — so — and  say  that  you  never 
put  this  key  in  yonder  lock?  Edna!  more  hangs  on  your 
words  than  you  dream  of.  Be  truthful !  as  if  you  were  in 
deed  in  the  presence  of  the  God  you  worship.  I  can  for 
give  you  for  prying  into  my  affairs,  but  I  can  not  and  will 
not  pardon  you  for  trifling  with  me  now." 

"I  never  unlocked  the  vault;  I  never  had  the  key  near  it 
but  once — about  a  week  ago — when  I  found  the  tomb  cov 
ered  with  cobwebs,  and  twisted  the  key  partly  into  the  hole 
to  drive  out  the  spider.  I  give  you  my  most  solemn  assur 
ance  that  I  never  unlocked  it,  never  saw  the  interior.  Your 
suspicions  are  ungenerous  and  unjust — derogatory  to  you 
and  insulting  to  me." 

"The  proof  is  at  hand,  and  if  I  have  indeed  unjustly  sus 
pected  you,  atonement  full  and  ample  shall  be  made." 

Clasping  one  of  her  hands  so  firmly  that  she  could  not 
extricate  it,  he  drew  her  before  the  Taj  Mahal,  and  stoop 
ing,  fitted  the  key  to  the  lock.  There  was  a  dull  click  as  he 
turned  it,  but  even  then  he  paused  and  scrutinized  her  face. 
It  was  flushed,  and  wore  a  proud,  defiant,  grieved  look;  his 
own  was  colorless  as  the  marble  that  reflected  it,  and  she 
felt  the  heavy,  rapid  beating  of  his  blood,  and  saw  the 
cords  thickening  on  his  brow. 

"If  you  have  faithfully  kept  your  promise,  there  will  be 
an  explosion  when  I  open  the  vault." 

Slowly  he  turned  the  key  a  second  time ;  and  as  the  arched 
door  opened  and  swung  back  on  its  golden  hinges,  there 
was  a  flash  and  sharp  report  from  a  pistol  within. 

Edna  started  involuntarily  notwithstanding  the  warning, 
and  clung  to  his  arm  an  instant,  but  he  took  no  notice  of  her 
whatever.  His  fingers  relaxed  their  iron  grasp  of  hers,  his 
hand  dropped  to  his  side,  and  leaning  forward,  he  bowed  his 
head  on  the  marble  dome  of  the  little  temple.  How  long  he 
stood  there  she  knew  not;  but  the  few  moments  seemed  to 
her  interminable  as  she  silently  watched  his  motionless 
figure. 

He  was  so  still,  that  finally  she  conjectured  he  might  pos- 


122  ST.  ELMO. 

«ibly  have  fainted  from  some  cause  unknown  to  her;  and 
averse  though  she  was  to  addressing  him,  she  said  timidly: 

"Mr.  Murray,  are  you  ill?  Give  me  the  key  of  the  door 
and  I  will  bring  you  some  wine." 

There  was  no  answer,  and  in  alarm  she  put  her  hand  on 
his. 

Tightly  he  clasped  it,  and  drawing  her  suddenly  close  to 
his  side,  said  without  raising  his  face: 

"Edna  Earl,  I  have  been  ill — for  years — but  I  shall  be 
better  henceforth.  O  child!  child!  your  calm,  pure,  guileless 
soul  can  not  comprehend  the  blackness  and  dreariness  of 
'mine.  Better  that  you  should  lie  down  now  in  death,  with 
all  the  unfolded  freshness  of  your  life  gathered  in  your 
grave,  than  live  to  know  the  world  as  I  have  proved  it.  For 
many  years  I  have  lived  without  hope  or  trust  or  faith  in 
anything — in  anybody.  To-night  I  stand  here  lacking  sym 
pathy  with  or  respect  for  my  race,  and  my  confidence  in 
human  nature  was  dead ;  but,  child,  you  have  galvanized  the 
corpse." 

Again  the  mournful  music  of  his  voice  touched  her  heart, 
and  she  felt  her  tears  rising  as  she  answered  in  a  low,  hesi 
tating  tone : 

"It  was  not  death,  Mr.  Murray,  it  was  merely  syncope 
and  this  is  a  healthful  reaction  from  disease." 

"No,  it  will  not  last.  It  is  but  an  ignis  fatuus  that  will 
decoy  to  deeper  gloom  and  darker  morasses.  I  have  swept 
and  garnished,  and  the  seven  other  devils  will  dwell  with  me 
forever !  My  child,  I  have  tempted  you,  and  you  stood  firm. 
Forgive  my  suspicions.  Twenty  years  hence,  if  you  are  so 
luckless  as  to  live  that  tang,  you  will  not  wonder  that  I 
doubted  you,  but  that  my  doubt  proved  unjust.  This  little 
vault  contains  no  skeleton,  no  state  secrets;  only  a  picture 
and  a  few  jewels,  my  will,  and  the  history  of  a  wrecked, 
worthless,  utterly  ruined  life.  Perhaps  if  you  continue  true, 
and  make  my  mother  happy.  I  may  put  all  in  your  hands 
some  day,  when  I  die ;  and  then  you  will  not  wonder  at  my 
aimless,  hopeless,  useless  life.  One  thing  I  wish  to  say  now, 
if  at  any  time  you  need  assistance  of  any  kind — if  you  are 
troubled — come  to  me.  I  am  not  quite  so  selfish  as  the  world 
paints  me,  and  even  if  I  seem  rude  and  harsh,  do  not  fear 
to  come  to  me.  You  have  conferred  a  favor  on  me,  and  I 


ST.  ELMO.  123 

do  not  like  to  remain  in  anybody's  debt.     Make  me  repay 

you  as  soon  as  possible." 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,  we  never  can  be  friends." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  you  have  no  confidence  in  me,  and  I  would  much 
sooner  go  for  sympathy  to  one  of  your  bronze  monsters  yon 
der  on  the  doorsteps,  than  to  you.  Neither  of  us  likes  the 
other,  and  consequently  a  sham  cordiality  would  be  intoler 
ably  irksome.  I  shall  not  be  here  much  longer ;  but  while  we 
are  in  the  same  house,  I  trust  no  bitter  or  unkind  feelings 
will  be  entertained.  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  polite  offer  of 
assistance,  but  hope  I  shall  soon  be  able  to  maintain  myself 
without  burdening  your  mother  any  longer." 

"How  long  have  you  burdened  her?" 

"Ever  since  that  night  when  I  was  picked  up  lame  and 
helpless,  and  placed  in  her  kind  hands." 

"I  should  like  to  know  whether  you  really  love  my 
mother?" 

"Next  to  the  memory  of  my  grandfather,  I  love  her  and 
Mr.  Hammond ;  and  I  feel  that  my  gratitude  is  beyond  ex 
pression.  There,  your  mother  is  coming!  I  hear  the  car 
riage.  Shall  I  tell  her  you  are  here  ?" 

Without  raising  his  face,  he  took  th:  key  of  the  door  from 
his  pocket,  and  held  it  toward  her.  "No;  I  will  meet  her 
in  her  own  room." 

Edna  hastened  to  the  library,  and  throwing  herself  into  a 
chair,  tried  to  collect  her  thoughts  and  reflect  upon  what  had 
passed  in  the  "Egyptian  Museum." 

Very  soon  Mrs.  Murray's  cry  of  joyful  surprise  rang 
through  the  house,  and  tears  of  sympathy  rose  to  Edna's 
eyes  as  fancy  pictured  the  happy  meeting  in  the  neighbor 
ing  room.  Notwithstanding  the  strong  antipathy  to  Mr. 
Murray  which  she  had  assiduously  cultivated,  and  despite 
her  conviction  that  he  held  in  derision  the  religious  faith,  to 
which  she  clung  so  tenaciously,  she  was  now  disquieted  and 
pained  to  discover  that  his  bronzed  face  possessed  an  at 
traction — an  indescribable  fascination — which  she  had  found 
nowhere  else.  In  striving  to  analyze  the  interest  she  was 
for  the  first  time  conscious  of  feeling,  she  soothed  herself 
with  the  belief  that  it  arose  from  curiosity  concerning  his 
past  life,  and  sympathy  for  his  evident  misanthropy.  It  was 


124 


ST.  ELMO. 


in  vain  that  she  endeavored  to  fix  her  thoughts  on  a  book; 
his  eyes  met  hers  on  every  page,  and  when  the  bell  sum 
moned  her  to  a  late  supper,  she  was  glad  to  escape  from 
lier  own  confused  reflections. 

Mrs.  Murray  and  her  son  were  standing  on  the  rug  be 
fore  the  grate,  and  as  Edna  entered,  the  former  held  out  her 
hand. 

"Have  you  seen  my  son?  Come  and  congratulate  me." 
She  kissed  the  girl's  forehead,  and  continued : 

"St.  Elmo,  has  she  not  changed  astonishingly?  Would 
you  have  known  her  had  you  met  her  away  from  home?" 

"I  should  certainly  have  known  her  under  all  circum 
stances." 

He  did  not  look  at  her,  but  resumed  the  conversation 
with  his  mother  which  her  entrance  had  interrupted,  and 
during  supper  Edna  could  scarcely  realize  that  the  cold,  dis 
tant  man,  who  took  no  more  notice  of  her  than  of  one  of  the 
salt  cellars,  was  the  same  whom  she  had  left  leaning  over 
the  Taj.  Not  the  faintest  trace  of  emotion  lingered  on  the 
dark,  stony  features,  over  which  occasionally  flickered  the 
light  of  a  sarcastic  smile,  as  he  briefly  outlined  the  course  of 
his  wanderings ;  and  now  that  she  could,  without  being  ob 
served,  study  his  countenance,  she  saw  thai  he  looked  much 
older,  more  worn  and  haggard  and  hopeless,  than  when  last 
at  home,  and  that  the  thick,  curling  hair  that  clung  in  glossy 
rings  to  his  temples  was  turning  grey. 

When  they  arose  from  the  table,  Mrs.  Murray  took  an 
exquisite  bouquet  from  the  mantelpiece  and  said : 

"Edna,  I  was  requested  to  place  this  in  your  hands,  as  a 
token  of  the  regard  and  remembrance  of  your  friend  and 
admirer,  Gordon  Leigh,  who  charged  me  to  assure  you  that 
your  absence  spoiled  his  enjoyment  of  the  day.  As  he 
seemed  quite  inconsolable  because  of  your  non-attendance, 
I  promised  that  you  should  ride  with  him  to-morrow  after 
noon." 

As  Edna  glanced  up  to  receive  the  flowers,  she  met  the 
merciless  gaze  she  so  much  dreaded,  and  in  her  confusion 
let  the  bouquet  fall  on  the  carpet.  Mr.  Murray  picked  it  up, 
inhaled  the  fragrance,  rearranged  some  of  the  geranium 
leaves  that  had  been  crushed,  and,  smiling  bitterly  all  the 
while,  bowed,  and  put  it  securely  in  her  hand. 


ST.  ELMO.  125 

"Edna,  you  have  no  other  engagement  for  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  madam,  I  have  promised  to  spend  it  with  Mr.  Ham 
mond." 

"Then  you  must  excuse  yourself,  for  I  will  not  have  Gor 
don  disappointed  again." 

Too  much  annoyed  to  answer,  Edna  left  the  room,  but 
paused  in  the  hall  and  beckoned  to  Mrs.  Murray,  who  in 
stantly  joined  her. 

"Of  course,  you  will  not  have  prayers  to-night,  as  Mr. 
Murray  has  returned?" 

"For  that  very  reason  I  want  to  have  them,  to  make  a 
public  acknowledgment  of  my  gratitude  that  my  son  has 
been  restored  to  me.  Oh!  if  he  would  only  consent  to  be 
present !" 

"It  is  late,  and  he  will  probably  plead  fatigue." 

"Leave  that  with  me,  and  when  I  ring  the  bell,  come  to 
the  library." 

The  orphan  went  to  her  room  and  diligently  copied  an 
essay  which  she  intended  to  submit  to  Mr.  Hammond  for 
criticism  on  the  following  day ;  and  as  the  comparative 
merits  of  the  Solonian  and  Lycurgan  codes  constituted  her 
theme,  she  soon  became  absorbed  by  Grecian  politics,  and 
was  only  reminded  of  the  events  of  the  evening,  when  the 
muezzin  bell  sounded,  calling  the  household  to  prayer. 

She  laid  down  her  pen  and  hurried  to  the  library,  whither 
Mrs.  Murray  had  enticed  her  son,  who  was  standing  before 
one  of  the  book-cases,  looking  over  the  table  of  contents  of 
a  new  scientific  work.  The  servants  came  in  and  ranged 
themselves  near  the  door,  and  suddenly  Mrs.  Murray  said: 

"You  must  take  my  place  to-night,  Edna ;  I  can  not  read 
aloud." 

The  orphan  looked  up  appealingly,  but  an  imperative 
gesture  silenced  her,  and  she  sat  down  before  the  table,  be 
wildered  and  frightened.  Mr.  Murray  glanced  around  the 
room,  and  with  a  look  of  wrath  and  scorn  threw  down  the 
book  and  turned  toward  the  door;  but  his  mother's  hand 
seized  his — 

"My  son,  for  my  sake,  do  not  go  !  Out  of  respect  for  me, 
remain  the  first  evening  of  your  return.  For  my  sake,  St. 
Elmo !" 

He  frowned,  shook  off  her  hands,  and  strode  to  the  door ; 


126  ST.  ELMO. 

then  reconsidered  the  matter,  came  back,  and  stood  at  the 
fireplace,  leaning  his  elbow  on  the  mantel,  looking  gloomily 
at  the  coals. 

Although  painfully  embarrassed  as  she  took  her  seat  and 
prepared  to  conduct  the  services  in  his  presence,  Edna  felt 
a  great  calm  steal  over  her  spirit  when  she  opened  the  Bible 
and  read  her  favorite  chapter,  the  fourteenth  of  St.  John. 

Her  sweet,  flexible  voice,  gradually  losing  its  tremor, 
rolled  soothingly  through  the  room ;  and  when  she  knelt  and 
repeated  the  prayer  selected  for  the  occasion — a  prayer  of 
thanks  for  the  safe  return  of  a  traveller  to  the  haven  of 
home — her  tone  was  full  of  pathos  and  an  earnestness  that 
strangely  stirred  the  proud  heart  of  the  wanderer  as  he 
stood  there,  looking  through  his  fingers  at  her  uplifted  face, 
and  listening  to  the  first  prayer  that  had  reached  his  ears 
for  nearly  nineteen  weary  years  of  sin  and  scoffing. 

When  Edna  rose  from  her  knees  he  had  left  the  room, 
and  she  heard  his  swift  steps  echoing  drearily  through  the 
rotunda. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"I  DO  not  wish  to  interrupt  you.  There  is  certainly  room 
enough  in  this  library  for  both,  and  my  entrance  need  not 
prove  the  signal  for  your  departure." 

Mr.  Murray  closed  the  door  as  he  came  in,  and  walking 
up  to  the  book-cases,  stood  carefully  examining  the  titles  of 
the  numerous  volumes.  It  was  a  cold,  dismal  morning,  and 
sobbing  wintry  winds  and  the  ceaseless  pattering  of  rain 
made  the  outer  world  seem  dreary  in  comparison  with  the 
genial  atmosphere  and  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  cosy,  luxurious 
library,  where  choice  exotics  breathed  their  fragrance  and 
early  hyacinths  exhaled  their  ricn  perfume.  In  the  centre 
of  the  morocco-covered  table  stooc'  a  tall  glass  bowl,  filled 
with  white  camellias,  and  from  its  scalloped  edges  drooped 
a  fringe  of  scarlet  fuchsias;  while  near  the  window  was  a 
china  statuette,  in  whose  daily  adornment  Edna  took  un 
wearied  interest.  It  was  a  lovely  Flora,  whose  slender  fin 
gers  held  aloft  small  tulip-shaped  vases,  into  which  fresh 
blossoms  were  inserted  every  morning.  The  head  was  so 
arranged  as  to  contain  water,  and  thus  preserve  the  wreath 
of  natural  flowers  which  crowned  the  goddess.  To-day 
golden  crocuses  nestled  down  on  the  streaming  hair,  and 
purple  pansies  filled  the  fairy  hands,  while  the  tiny,  rosy 
feet  sank  deep  in  the  cushion  of  fine,  green  mosses,  studded 
with  double  violets. 

Edna  had  risen  to  leave  the  room  when  the  master  of  the 
house  entered,  but  at  his  request  resumed  her  seat  and  con 
tinued  reading. 

After  pearching  the  shelves  unavailingly,  he  glanced  over 
his  shoulder  and  asked : 

"Have  you  seen  my  copy  of  De  Guerin's  'Centaur'  any 
where  about  the  house?  I  had  it  a  week  ago." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  causing  such  a  fruitless 
search ;  here  is  the  book.  I  picked  it  up  on  the  front  steps, 


128  ST.  ELMO. 

where   you   were    reading  a  few    afternoons  since,  and  it 
opened  at  a  passage  that  attracted  my  attention." 

She  closed  the  volume  and  held  it  toward  him,  but  he 
waved  it  back. 

"Keep  it  if  it  interests  you.  I  have  read  it  once,  and 
merely  wished  to  refer  to  a  particular  passage.  Can  you 
guess  what  sentence  most  frequently  recurs  to  me?  If  so, 
read  it  to  me." 

He  drew  a  chair  close  to  the  hearth  and  lighted  his  cigar. 

Hesitatingly  Edna  turned  the  leaves. 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,  that  my  selection  would  displease  you." 

"I  will  risk  it,  as,  notwithstanding  your  flattering  opinion 
to  the  contrary,  I  am  not  altogether  so  unreasonable  as  to 
take  offense  at  a  compliance  with  my  own  request." 

Still  she  shrank  from  the  task  he  imposed,  and  her  fingers 
toyed  with  the  scarlet  fuchsias;  but  after  eyeing  her  for  a 
while,  he  leaned  forward  and  pushed  the  glass  bowl  beyond 
her  reach. 

"Edna,  I  am  waiting." 

"Well,  then,  Mr.  Murray,  I  should  think  that  these  two 
passages  would  impress  you  with  peculiar  force." 

Raising  the  book  she  read  with  much  emphasis : 

"Thou  pnrsuest  after  wisdom,  O  Melampus !  which  is  the 
science  of  the  will  of  the  gods;  and  than  roamest  from  peo 
ple  to  people,  like  a  mortal  driven  by  the  destinies.  In  the 
times  when  I  kept  my  night-watches  before  the  caverns,  I 
have  sometimes  believed  that  I  was  about  to  surprise  the 
thoughts  of  the  sleeping  Cybele,  and  that  the  mother  of  the 
gods,  betrayed  by  her  dreams,  would  let  fall  some  of  her 
secrets.  But  I  have  never  yet  made  out  more  than  sounds 
which  faded  away  in  the  murmur  of  night,  of  words  inartic 
ulate  as  the  bubbling  of  the  rivers. 

******* 

"Seekest  thou  to  know  the  gods,  O  Macareus !  and  from 
what  source  men,  animals,  and  the  elements  of  the  universal 
fire  have  their  origin?  The  aged  ocean,  the  father  of  all 
things,  keeps  locked  within  his  own  breast  these  secrets ; 
and  the  nymphs  who  stand  around  sing  as  they  weave  their 
eternal  dance  before  him,  to  cover  any  sound  which  might 
escape  from  his  lips,  half  opened  by  slumber.  Mortals  dear 
to  the  gods  for  their  virtue  have  received  from  their  hands 


ST.  ELMO. 


129 


tyres  to  give  delight  to  man,  or  the  seeds  of  new  plants  to 
make  him  rich,  but  from  their  inexorable  lips — nothing!" 

"Mr.  Murray,  am  I  correct  in  my  conjecture?" 

"Quite  correct,"  he  answered,  smiling  grimly. 

Taking  the  book  from  her  hand  he  threw  it  on  the  table, 
and  tossed  his  cigar  into  the  grate,  adding  in  a  defiant,  chal 
lenging  tone : 

"The  mantle  of  Solomon  did  not  fall  at  Le  Cay  la  on  the 
shoulders  of  Maurice  de  Guerin.  After  all,  he  was  a 
wretched  hypochondriac,  and  a  tinge  of  le  cahier  vert  doubt 
less  crept  into  his  eyes." 

"Do  you  forget,  sir,  that  he  said,  'When  one  is  a  wan 
derer,  one  feels  that  one  fulfills  the  true  condition  of 
humanity'?  and  that  among  his  last  words  are  these,  'The 
stream  of  travel  is  full  of  delight.  Oh!  who  will  set  me 
adrift  on  this  Nile?"1 

"Pardon  me  if  I  remind  you,  par  parenthese,  of  the  pre 
liminary  and  courteous  En  garde!  which  should  be  pro 
nounced  before  a  thrust.  De  Guerin  felt  starved  in  Langue- 
doc,  and  no  wonder !  But  had  he  penetrated  every  nook  and 
cranny  of  the  habitable  globe,  and  traversed  the  vast  zaarahs 
which  science  accords  the  universe,  he  would  have  died  at 
last  as  hungry  as  Ugolino.  I  speak  advisedly,  for  the  true 
lo  gad-fly,  ennui,  has  stung  me  from  hemisphere  to  hemis 
phere,  across  tempestuous  oceans,  scorching  deserts,  and  icy 
mountain  ranges.  I  have  faced  alike  the  bourrans  of  the 
steppes  and  the  Samieli  of  Shamo,  and  the  result  of  my  van 
dal  life  is  best  epitomized  in  those  grand  but  grim  words  of 
Bossuet:  'On  trouve  au  fond  de  tout  le  vide  et  le  neant' 
Nineteen  years  ago,  to  satisfy  my  hunger,  I  set  out  to  hunt 
the  daintiest  food  this  world  could  furnish,  and,  like  other 
fools,  have  learned  finally,  that  life  is  but  a  huge,  mellow, 
golden  Osher,  that  mockingly  sifts  its  bitter  dust  upon  our 
eager  lips.  Ah !  truly,  on  trouve  au  fond  de  tout  le  vide  et 
le  ncant!" 

"Mr.  Murray,  if  you  insist  upon  your  bitter  Osher  smile, 
why  shut  your  eyes  to  the  palpable  analogy  suggested? 
Naturalists  assert  that  the  Solanum,  or  apple  of  Sodom, 
contains  in  its  normal  state  neither  dust  nor  ashes,  unless  it 
is  punctured  by  an  insect  (the  Tenthredo),  which  converts 
the  whole  of  the  inside  into  dust,  leaving  nothing  but  the 


130 


ST.  ELMO. 


rind  entire,  without  any  loss  of  color.  Human  life  is  as  fair 
and  tempting  as  the  fruit  of  'Ain  Jidy/  till  stung  and  poi 
soned  by  the  Tenthredo  of  sin." 

All  conceivable  suaviter  in  modo  characterized  his  mock 
ing  countenance  and  tone,  as  he  inclined  his  haughty  head 
and  asked: 

"Will  you  favor  me  by  lifting  on  the  point  of  your  dis- 
secting-knife  this  stinging  sin  of  mine  to  which  you  refer? 
The  noxious  brood  swarm  so  teasingly  about  my  ears  that 
they  deprive  me  of  your  cool,  clear,  philosophic  discrimina 
tion.  Which  particular  Tenthredo  of  the  buzzing  swarm 
around  my  spoiled  apple  of  life  would  you  advise  me  to 
select  for  my  anathema  maranatha?" 

"Of  your  history,  sir,  I  am  entirely  ignorant;  and  even 
if  I  were  not,  I  should  not  presume  to  levy  a  tax  upon  it  in 
discussions  with  you ;  for,  however  vulnerable  you  may  pos 
sibly  be,  I  regard  an  arguinentum  ad  hominem  as  the  weak 
est  weapon  ir  the  armory  of  dialectics — a  weapon  too  often 
dipped  in  the  venom  of  personal  malevolence.  I  merely  gave 
expression  to  my  belief  that  miserable,  useless  lives  are  sin 
ful  lives;  that  when  God  framed  the  world,  and  called  the 
human  race  into  it,  he  made  most  munificent  provision  for 
all  healthful  hunger,  whether  physical,  intellectual,  or  moral ; 
and  that  it  is  a  morbid,  diseased,  distorted  nature  that  wears 
out  its  allotted  years  on  earth  in  bitter  carping  and  blas 
phemous  dissatisfaction.  The  Greeks  recognized  this  im 
memorial  truth — wrapped  it  in  classic  traditions,  and  the 
myth  of  Tantalus  constituted  its  swaddling-clothes.  You 
are  a  scholar,  Mr.  Murray ;  look  back  and  analyze  the  deriva 
tion  and  significance  of  that  fable.  Tantalus,  the  son  of 
Pluto,  or  Wealth,  was,  according  to  Pindar,  'a  wanderer 
from  happiness,'  and  the  name  represents  a  man  abounding 
in  wealth,  but  whose  appetite  was  so  insatiable,  even  at  the 
ambrosial  feast  of  the  gods,  that  it  ultimately  doomed  him 
to  eternal  unsatisfied  thirst  and  hunger  in  Tartarus.  The 
same  truth  crops  out  in  the  legend  of  Midas,  who  found 
himself  starving  while  his  touch  converted  all  things  to 
gold." 

"Doubtless  you  have  arrived  at  the  charitable  conclusion 
that,  as  I  am  endowed  with  all  the  amiable  idiosyncrasies  of 
ancient  cynics,  I  shall  inevitably  join  the  snarling  Drves  Club 


ST.  ELMO.  131 

in  Hades,  and  swell  the  howling  chorus.  Probably  I  shall 
not  disappoint  your  kind  and  eminently  Christian  expecta 
tions;  nor  will  I  deprive  you  of  the  gentle  satisfaction  of 
hissing  across  the  gulf  of  perdition,  which  will  then  divide 
us,  that  summum  bonum  of  feminine  felicity,  'I  told  you 
so!": 

The  reckless  mockery  of  his  manner  made  Edna  shiver, 
and  a  tremor  crept  across  her  beautiful  lips  as  she  answered 
sadly : 

"You  torture  my  words  into  an  interpretation  of  which  I 
never  dreamed,  and  look  upon  all  things  through  the  dis 
torting  lenses  of  your  own  moodiness.  It  is  worse  than 
useless  for  us  to  attempt  an  amicable  discussion,  for  your 
bitterness  never  slumbers,  your  suspicions  are  ever  on  the 
qui  vive" 

She  rose,  but  he  quickly  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder, 
and  pressed  her  back  into  the  chair. 

"You  will  be  so  good  as  to  sit  still,  and  hear  me  out.  I 
have  a  right  to  all  my  charming,  rose-colored  views  of  this 
world.  I  have  gone  to  and  fro  on  the  earth,  and  life  has 
proved  a  Barmecide's  banquet  of  just  thirty-eight  years' 
duration." 

"But,  sir,  you  lacked  the  patience  and  resolution  of  Shaca- 
bac,  or,  like  him,  you  would  have  finally  grasped  the  splen 
did  realities.  The  world  must  be  conquered,  held  in  bond 
age  to  God's  law  and  man's  reason,  before  we  can  hope  to 
levy  tribute  that  will  support  our  moral  and  mental  natures ; 
and  it  is  only  when  humanity  finds  itself  in  the  inverted 
order  of  serfdom  to  the  world,  that  it  dwarfs  its  capacities, 
and  even  then  dies  of  famine." 

The  scornful  gleam  died  out  of  his  eyes,  and  mournful 
compassion  stole  in. 

"Ah !  how  impetuously  youth  springs  to  the  battlefield  of 
life!  Hope  exorcises  the  gaunt  spectre  of  defeat,  and  fancy 
fingers  unwon  trophies  and  fadeless  bays ;  but  slow-stepping 
experience,  pallid,  blood-stained,  spent  with  toil,  lays  her 
icy  hand  on  the  rosy  veil  that  floats  before  bright,  brave, 
young  eyes,  and  lo !  the  hideous  wreck,  the  bleaching  bones, 
the  grinning,  ghastly  horrors  that  strew  the  scene  of  com 
bat!  No  burnished  eagles  nor  streaming  banners,  neither 
spoils  of  victory  nor  paeans  of  triumph,  only  silence  and 


132  ST.  ELMO. 

gloom  and  death — slow-sailing  vultures — and  a  voiceless 
desolation !  Oh,  child !  if  you  would  find  a  suitable  type  of 
that  torn  and  trampled  battlefield — the  human  heart — when 
vice  and  virtue,  love  and  hate,  revenge  and  remorse,  have 
wrestled  fiercely  for  the  mastery — go  back  to  your  Tacitus, 
and  study  there  the  dismal  picture  of  that  lonely  Teutobur- 
gium,  where  Varus  and  his  legions  went  down  in  the  red 
burial  of  battle!  You  talk  of  'conquering  the  world — hold 
ing  it  in  bondage  •'  What  do  you  know  of  its  perils  and 
subtle  temptations — of  the  glistening  quicksands  whose 
smooth  lips  already  gape  to  engulf  you?  The  very  vilest 
fiend  in  hell  might  afford  to  pause  and  pity  your  delusion  ere 
turning  to  machinations  destined  to  rouse  you  rudely  from 
your  silly  dreams.  Ah!  you  remind  me  of  a  little  innocent, 
happy  child,  playing  on  some  shining  beach,  when  the  sky 
is  quiet,  the  winds  are  hushed,  and  all  things  wrapped  in 
rest,  save 

'  The  water  lapping  on  the  crag, 
And  the  long   ripple  washing  in  the  reeds' — 

a  fair,  fearless  child,  gathering  polished  pearly  shells  with 
which  to  build  fairy  palaces,  and  suddenly,  as  she  catches 
the  mournful  murmur  of  the  iinmemorial  sea,  that  echoes  in 
the  flushed  and  folded  chambers  of  the  stranded  shells,  her 
face  pales  with  awe  and  wonder — the  childish  lips  part,  the 
childish  eyes  are  strained  to  discover  the  mystery ;  and  while 
the  whispering  monotone  admonishes  of  howling  storms  and 
sinking  argosies,  she  smiles  and  listens,  sees  only  the  glow 
ing  carmine  of  the  fluted  reels,  hears  only  the  magic  music 
of  the  sea  sirens — and  the  sky  blackens,  the  winds  leap  to 
their  track  of  ruin,  the  great  deep  rises  wrathful  and  mur 
derous,  bellowing  for  victims,  and  Cyclone  reigns?  Thun 
dering  waves  sweep  over  and  bear  away  the  frail  palaces 
that  decked  the  strand,  and  even  while  the  shell  symphony 
still  charms  the  ear,  the  child's  rosy  feet  are  washed  from 
their  sandy  resting-place;  she  is  borne  on  howling  billows 
far  out  to  a  lashed  and  maddened  main,  strewn  with  human 
drift;  and  numb  with  horror  she  sinks  swiftly  to  a  long  and 
final  rest  among  purple  algae !  Even  so,  Edna,  you  stop  your 
ears  with  shells,  and  my  warning  falls  like  snow-flakes  that 
melt  and  vanish  on  the  bosom  of  a  stream. 


ST.  ELMO.  133 

"No,  sir,  I  am  willing  to  be  advised.  Against  what  would 
you  warn  me?" 

"The  hollowness  of  life,  the  fatuity  of  your  hopes,  the 
treachery  of  that  human  nature  of  which  you  speak  so  ten 
derly  and  reverently.  So  surely  as  you  put  faith  in  the 
truth  and  nobility  of  humanity,  you  will  find  it  as  soft-lipped 
and  vicious  as  Paolo  Orsini,  who  folded  his  wife,  Isabella  de 
Medici,  most  lovingly  in  his  arms,  and  while  he  tenderly 
pressed  her  to  his  heart,  slipped  a  cord  around  her  neck  and 
strangled  her." 

"I  know,  sir,  that  human  nature  is  weak,  selfish,  sinful — 
that  such  treacherous  monsters  as  Ezzolino  and  the  Visconti 
have  stained  the  annals  of  our  race  with  blood-blotches, 
which  the  stream  of  time  will  never  efface;  but  the  law  of 
compensation  operates  here  as  well  as  in  other  departments, 
and  brings  to  light  a  'fidus  Achates'  and  Antoninus.  I  be 
lieve  that  human  nature  is  a  curious  amalgam  of  meanness, 
malice  and  magnanimity,  and  that  an  earnest,  loving  Chris 
tian  charity  is  the  only  safe  touchstone,  and  furnishes  (if 
you  will  tolerate  the  simile)  the  only  elective  affinity  in  moral 
chemistry.  Because  ingots  are  not  dug  out  of  the  earth,  is 
it  not  equally  unwise  and  ungrateful  to  ridicule  and  de 
nounce  the  hopeful,  patient,  tireless  laborers  who  handle  the 
alloy  and  ultimately  disintegrate  the  precious  metal?  Even 
if  the  world  were  bankrupt  in  morality  and  religion — which, 
thank  God,  it  is  not — one  grand  shining  example,  like  Mr. 
Hammond,  whose  unswerving  consistency,  noble  charity, 
and  sublime  unselfishness  all  concede  and  revere,  ought  to 
leaven  the  mass  of  sneering  cynics,  and  win  them  to  a  belief 
in  their  capacity  for  rising  to  pure,  holy,  almost  perfect 
lives." 

"Spare  me  a  repetition  of  the  rhapsodies  of  Madame 
Guyon !  I  am  not  surprised  that  such  a  novice  as  you  prove 
yourself  should,  in  the  stereotyped  style  of  orthodoxy,  swear 
by  the  hoary  Tartuffe,  that  hypocritical  wolf,  Allan  Ham 
mond " 

"Stop,  Mr.  Murray!  You  must  not,  shall  not  use  such 
language  in  my  presence  concerning  one  whom  I  love  and 
revere  above  all  other  human  beings  !  How  dare  you  malign 
that  noble  Christian,  whose  lips  daily  lift  your  name  to  God, 


134 


ST.  ELMO. 


praying  for  pardon  and  for  peace?  Oh!  how  ungrateful, 
how  unworthy  you  are  of  his  affection  and  his  prayers !" 

She  had  interrupted  him  with  an  imperious  wave  of  her 
hand,  and  stood  regarding  him  with  an  expression  of  in 
dignation  and  detestation. 

"I  neither  possess  nor  desire  his  affection  or  his  prayers." 

"Sir,  you  know  that  you  do  not  deserve,  but  you  most 
certainly  have  both." 

"How  did  you  obtain  your  information?" 

"Accidentally,  when  he  was  so  surprised  and  grieved  to 
hear  that  you  had  started  on  your  long  voyage  to  Oceanica." 

"He  availed  himself  of  that  occasion  to  acquaint  you  with 
all  my  heinous  sins,  my  youthful  crimes  and  follies,  my " 

"No,  sir!  he  told  me  nothing,  except  that  you  no  longer 
loved  him  as  in  your  boyhood;  that  you  had  become  es 
tranged  from  him ;  and  then  he  wept,  and  added,  'I  love  him 
still ;  I  shall  pray  for  him  as  long  as  I  live.'  " 

"Impossible !  You  can  not  deceive  me !  In  the  depths  of 
his  heart  he  hates  and  curses  me.  Even  a  brooding  dove — 
pshaw !  Allan  Hammond  is  but  a  man,  and  it  would  be  un 
natural — utterly  impossible  that  he  could  still  think  kindly 
of  his  old  pupil.  Impossible!" 

Mr.  Murray  rose  and  stood  before  the  grate  with  his  face 
averted,  and  his  companion  seized  the  opportunity  to  say 
in  a  low,  determined  tone : 

"Of  the  causes  that  induced  your  estrangement  I  am  abso 
lutely  ignorant.  Nothing  has  been  told  me,  and  it  is  a 
matter  about  which  I  have  conjectured  little.  But,  sir,  I 
have  seen  Air.  Hammond  every  day  for  four  years,  and  I 
know  what  I  say  when  I  tell  you  that  he  loves  you  as  well 
as  if  you  were  his  own  son.  Moreover,  he " 

"Hush !  you  talk  of  what  you  do  not  understand.  Believe 
in  him  if  you  will,  but  be  careful  not  to  chant  his  praises  in 
my  presence;  not  to  parade  your  credulity  before  my  eyes, 
if  you  do  not  desire  that  I  shall  disenchant  you.  Just  now 
you  are  duped — so  was  I  at  your  age.  Your  judgment  slum 
bers,  experience  is  in  its  swaddling-clothes;  but  I  shall  bide 
my  time,  and  the  day  will  come  ere  long  when  these  hymns 
of  hero-worship  shall  be  hushed,  and  you  stand  clearer- 
eyed,  darker-hearted,  before  the  mouldering  altar  of  your 
god  of  clay." 


ST.  ELMO.  135 

"From  such  an  awakening  may  God  preserve  me !  Even 
if  our  religion  were  not  divine,  I  should  clasp  to  my  heart 
the  system  and  the  faith  that  make  Mr.  Hammond's  life 
serene  and  sublime.  Oh!  that  I  may  be  'duped'  into  that 
perfection  of  character  which  makes  his  example  beckon  me 
ever  onward  and  upward.  If  you  have  no  gratitude,  no 
reverence  left,  at  least  remember  the  veneration  with  which 
I  regard  him,  and  do  not  in  my  hearing  couple  his  name  with 
sneers  and  insults." 

"  'Ephrairri  is  joined  to  idols ;  let  him  alone !'  "  muttered 
the  master  of  the  house,  with  one  of  those  graceful,  mock 
ing  bows  that  always  disconcerted  the  orphan. 

She  was  nervously  twisting  Mr.  Leigh's  ring  around  her 
finger,  and  as  it  was  too  large,  it  slipped  off,  rang  on  the 
hearth,  and  rolled  to  Mr.  Murray's  feet. 

Picking  it  up  he  examined  the  emerald,  and  repeating  the 
inscription,  asked : 

"Do  you  understand  these  words?" 

"I  only  know  that  they  have  been  translated,  'Peace  be 
with  thee,  or  upon  thee.'  " 

"How  came  Gordon  Leigh's  ring  on  your  hand?  Has 
Tartuffe's  Hebrew  scheme  succeeded  so  soon  and  so  thor 
oughly?" 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  Mr.  Murray." 

"Madame  ma  mere  proves  an  admirable  ally  in  this  cleri 
cal  matchmaker's  deft  hands,  and  Gordon's  pathway  is 
widened  and  weeded.  Happy  Gordon !  blessed  with  such 
able  coadjutors!" 

The  cold,  sarcastic  glitter  of  his  eyes  wounded  and  hu 
miliated  the  girl,  and  her  tone  was  haughty  and  defiant — 

"You  deal  in  innuendoes  which  I  cannot  condescend  to 
notice.  Mr.  Leigh  is  my  friend,  and  gave  me  this  ring  as  a 
birthday  present.  As  your  mother  advised  me  to  accept  it, 
and  indeed  placed  it  on  my  finger,  her  sanction  should  cer 
tainly  exempt  me  from  your  censure." 

"Censure!  Pardon  me!  It  is  no  part  of  my  business; 
but  I  happen  to  know  something  of  gem  symbols,  and  must 
be  allowed  to  suggest  that  this  selection  is  scarcely  comme  il 
faut  for  a  betrothal  ring." 

Edna's  face  crimsoned,  and  the  blood  tingled  to  her  fin 
gers'  ends. 


I36  ST.  ELMO. 

"As  it  was  never  intended  as  such,  your  carping  criticism 
loses  its  point." 

He  stood  with  the  jewel  between  his  thumb  and  fore 
finger,  eyeing  her  fixedly,  and  on  his  handsome  features 
shone  a  smile,  treacherous  and  chilling  as  arctic  snowblink. 

"Pliny's  injunction  to  lapidaries  to  spare  the  smooth  sur 
face  of  emeralds  seems  to  have  been  forgotten  when  this 
ring  was  fashioned.  It  was  particularly  unkind,  nay,  cruel 
to  put  it  on  the  hand  of  a  woman,  who  of  course  must  and 
will  follow  the  example  of  all  her  sex,  and  go  out  fishing 
most  diligently  in  the  matrimonial  sea;  for  if  you  have 
chanced  to  look  into  gem  history,  you  will  remember  what 
befell  the  fish  on  the  coast  of  Cyprus,  where  the  emerald 
eyes  of  the  marble  lion  glared  down  so  mercilessly  through 
the  nets,  that  the  fishermen  could  catch  nothing  until  they 
removed  the  jewels  that  constituted  the  eyes  o-f  the  lion.  Do 
you  recollect  the  account?" 

"No,  sir,  I  never  read  it." 

"Indeed!  How  deplorably  your  education  has  been  neg 
lected!  I  thought  your  adored  Dominie  Sampson  down 
yonder  at  the  parsonage  was  teaching  you  a  prodigious 
amount?" 

"Give  me  my  ring,  Mr.  Murray,  and  I  will  leave  you." 

"Shall  I  not  enlighten  you  on  the  subject  of  emeralds?" 

"Thank  you,  sir,  I  believe  not,  as  what  I  have  already 
heard  does  not  tempt  me  to  prosecute  the  subject." 

"You  think  me  insufferably  presumptuous?" 

"That  is  a  word  which  I  should  scarcely  be  justified  in 
applying  to  you." 

"You  regard  me  as  meddlesome  and  tyrannical?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  generally  prefer  to  receive  answers  to  my  questions. 
Pray,  what  do  you  consider  me?" 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  said  sadly  and  gently : 

"Mr.  Murray,  is  it  generous  in  you  to  question  me  thus 
in  your  own  house?" 

"I  do  not  claim  to  be  generous,  and  the  world  would  in 
dignantly  defend  me  from  such  an  imputation  !  Generous  ? 
On  the  contrary,  I  declare  explicitly  that,  unlike  some 
'whited  supulchres'  of  my  acquaintance,  I  do  not  intend  to 
stand  labeled  with  patent  virtues!  Neither  do  I  parade 


ST.  ELMO.  137 

mesusoth  on  my  doors.  I  humbly  beg  you  to  recollect  that 
'I  am  not  a  carefully-printed  perambulating  advertisement 
of  Christianity." 

Raising  her  face,  Edna  looked  steadfastly  at  him,  and 
pain,  compassion,  shuddering  dread  filled  her  soft,  sad  eyes. 

"Well,  you  are  reading  me.    What  is  the  verdict?" 

A  long,  heavily-drawn  sigh  was  the  only  response. 

"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  reply  to  my  questions?" 

"No,  Mr.  Murray.  In  lieu  of  perpetual  strife  and  biting 
words,  let  there  be  silence  between  us.  We  can  not  be 
friends,  and  it  would  be  painful  to  wage  war  here  under 
your  roof;  consequently,  I  hope  to  disarm  your  hostility 
by  assuring  you  that  in  future  I  shall  not  attempt  to  argue 
with  you,  shall  not  pick  up  the  verbal  gauntlets  you  seem 
disposed  to  throw  down  to  me.  Surely,  sir,  if  not  generous 
you  are  at  least  sufficiently  courteous  to  abstain  from  attacks 
which  you  have  been  notified  will  not  be  resisted  ?" 

"You  wish  me  to  understand  that  hereafter  I,  the  owner 
and  ruler  of  this  establishment,  shall  on  no  account  pre 
sume  to  address  my  remarks  to  Aaron  Hunt's  grandchild?'* 

"My  words  were  very  clear,  Mr.  Murray,  and  I  meant 
what  I  said,  and  said  what  I  meant.  But  one  thing  I  wish 
to  add:  while  I  remain  here,  if  at  any  time  I  can  aid  or 
serve  you,  Aaron  Hunt's  grandchild  will  most  gladly  do  so. 
I  do  not  flatter  myself  that  you  will  ever  require  or  accept 
my  assistance  in  anything,  nevertheless  I  would  cheerfully 
render  it  should  occasion  arise." 

He  bowed  and  returned  the  emerald,  and  Edna  turned  to 
leave  the  library. 

"Before  you  go,  examine  this  bauble." 

He  took  from  his  vest  pocket  a  velvet  case  containing  a 
large  ring,  which  he  laid  in  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

It  was  composed  of  an  oval  jacinth,  with  a  splendid  scar 
let  fire  leaping  out  as  the  light  shone  on  it,  and  the  diamonds 
that  clustered  around  it  were  very  costly  and  brilliant.  There 
was  no  inscription,  but  upon  the  surface  of  the  jacinth  was 
engraved  a  female  head  crowned  with  oak  leaves,  among 
which  serpents  writhed  and  hissed,  and  just  beneath  the 
face  grinned  a  dog's  head.  The  small  but  exquisitely  carved 
human  face  was  savage,  sullen,  sinister,  and  fiery  rays 
seemed  to  dart  from  the  relentless  eyes. 


138  ST.  ELMO. 

"Is  it  a  Medusa?" 

"No." 

"It  is  certainly  very  beautiful,  but  I  do  not  recognize  the 
face.  Interpret  for  me." 

"It  is  Hecate,  Brimo,  Empusa — all  phases  of  the  same 
malignant  power;  and  it  remains  a  mere  matter  of  taste 
which  of  the  titles  you  select.  I  call  it  Hecate." 

"I  have  never  seen  you  wear  it." 

"You  never  will." 

"It  is  exceedingly  beautiful." 

Edna  held  it  toward  the  grate,  flashed  the  flame  now  on 
this  side,  now  on  that,  and  handed  it  back  to  the  owner. 

"Edna,  I  bought  this  ring  in  Naples,  intending  to  ask  your 
acceptance  of  it,  in  token  of  my  appreciation  of  your  care 
of  that  little  gold  key,  provided  I  found  you  trustworthy. 
After  your  pronunciamento  uttered  a  few  minutes  since,  I 
presume  I  may  save  myself  the  trouble  of  offering  it  to  you. 
Beside,  Gordon  might  object  to  having  his  emerald  over 
shadowed  by  my  matchless  jacinth.  Of  course,  your  tender 
conscience  will  veto  the  thought  of  your  wearing  it?" 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Murray;  the  ring  is,  by  far,  the  most 
beautiful  I  have  ever  seen,  but  I  certainly  can  not  accept  it." 

"Bithus  contra  Bacchium!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Murray,  with 
a  short,  mirthless  laugh  that  made  his  companion  shrink 
back  a  few  steps. 

Holding  the  ring  at  arm's  length  above  his  head,  he  con 
tinued  : 

"To  the  'infernal  flames/  your  fit  type,  I  devote  you,  my 
costly  Queen  of  Samothrace!" 

Leaning  over  the  grate,  he  dropped  the  jewel  in  the  glow 
ing  coals. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Murray !  save  it  from  destruction !" 

She  seized  the  tongs  and  sprang  forward,  but  he  put  out 
his  arm  and  held  her  back. 

"Stand  aside,  if  you  please.  Cleopatra  quaffed  liquid 
pearl  in  honor  of  Antony,  Nero  shivered  his  precious  crystal 
goblets,  and  Suger  pounded  up  sapphires  to  color  the  win 
dows  of  old  St.  Denis!  Chacun  a  son  gout!  If  I  choose  to 
indulge  myself  in  a  diamond  cremation  in  honor  of  my 
tutelary  goddess  Brimo,  who  has  the  right  to  expostulate? 
True,  such  costly  amusements  have  been  rare  since  the  days 


ST.  ELMO. 


139 


of  the  'Cyranides'  and  the  'Seven  Seals'  of  Hermes  Tris- 
megistus.  See  what  a  tawny,  angry  glare  leaps  from  my 
royal  jacinth!  Old  Hecate  holds  high  carnival  down  there 
in  her  congenial  flames." 

He  stood  with  one  arm  extended  to  bar  Edna's  approach, 
the  other  rested  on  the  mantel;  and  a  laughing,  reckless 
demon  looked  out  of  his  eyes,  which  were  fastened  on  the 
fire. 

Before  the  orphan  could  recover  from  her  sorrowful 
amazement  the  library  door  opened  and  Henry  looked  in. 

"Mr.  Leigh  is  in  the  parlor,  and  asked  for  Miss  Edna." 

Perplexed,  irresolute,  and  annoyed,  Edna  stood  still, 
watching  the  red  coals ;  and  after  a  brief  silence,  Mr.  Mur 
ray  smiled,  and  turned  to  look  at  her. 

"Pray,  do  not  let  me  detain  you,  and  rest  assured  that  I 
understand  your  decree.  You  have  entrenched  yourself  in 
impenetrable  silence,  and  hung  out  your  banner,  'noli  me 
tangere!'  Withdraw  your  pickets;  I  shall  attempt  neither 
siege  nor  escalade.  Good  morning.  Leave  my  De  Guerin 
on  the  table ;  it  will  be  at  your  disposal  after  to-day." 

He  stooped  to  light  a  cigar,  and  she  walked  away  to  her 
own  room. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  her,  he  laughed  and  reiterated 
the  favorite  proverb  that  often  crossed  his  lips,  "Bithus  con 
tra  Bacchiuml" 


CHAPTER   Xin. 

THE  darling  scheme  of  authorship  had  seized  upon  Edna's 
mind  with  a  tenacity  that  conquered  and  expelled  all  other 
purposes,  and  though  timidity  and  a  haunting  dread  of  the 
failure  of  the  experiment  prompted  her  to  conceal  the  mat 
ter,  even  from  her  beloved  pastor,  she  pondered  it  in  secret, 
and  bent  every  faculty  to  its  successful  accomplishment. 
Her  veneration  for  books — the  great  eleemosynary  gran 
aries  of  human  knowledge  to  which  the  world  resorts — ex 
tended  to  those  who  created  them ;  and  her  imagination  in 
vested  authors  with  peculiar  sanctity,  as  the  real  hierophants 
annointed  with  the  chrism  of  truth.  The  glittering  pinnacle 
of  consecrated  and  successful  authorship  seemed  to  her 
longing  gaze  as  sublime,  and  well-nigh  as  inaccessible,  as 
the  everlasting  and  untrodden  Himalayan  solitudes  appear 
to  some  curious  child  of  Thibet  or  Nepaul;  who  gamboling 
among  pheasants  and  rhododendrons,  shades  her  dazzled 
eyes  with  her  hand,  and  looks  up  awe-stricken  and  wonder 
ing  at  the  ice-domes  and  snow-minarets  of  lonely  Deo- 
dunga,  earth's  loftiest  and  purest  altar,  nimbused  with  the 
dawning  and  the  dying  light  of  the  day.  There  were  times 
when  the  thought  of  presenting  herself  as  a  candidate  for 
admission  into  the  band  of  literary  esoterics  seemed  to 
Edna  unpardonably  presumptuous,  almost  sacrilegious,  and 
she  shrank  back,  humbled  and  abashed;  for  writers  were 
teachers,  interpreters,  expounders,  discoverers,  or  creators — 
and  what  could  she,  just  stumbling  through  the  alphabet  of 
science  and  art,  hope  to  donate  to  her  race  that  would  en 
noble  human  motives  or  elevate  aspirations?  Was  she,  an 
unknown  and  inexperienced  girl,  worthy  to  be  girded  with 
the  ephod  that  draped  so  royally  the  Levites  of  literature? 
Had  God's  own  hand  set  the  Urim  and  Thummim  of  Genius 
in  her  soul?  Above  all,  was  she  mitred  with  the  plate  of 
pure  gold — "Holiness  unto  the  Lord?" 

Solemnly  and  prayerfully  she  weighed  the  subject,  and 

[140] 


ST.  ELMO. 


141 


having'  finally  resolved  to  make  one  attempt,  she  looked 
trustingly  to  heaven  for  aid  and  went  vigorously  to  work. 
To  write  currente  calamo  for  the  mere  pastime  of  author 
and  readers,  without  aiming  to  inculcate  some  regenerative 
principle,  or  to  photograph  some  valuable  phase  of  protean 
truth,  was  in  her  estimation  ignoble ;  for  her  high  standard 
demanded  that  all  books  should  be  to  a  certain  extent  didac 
tic,  wandering  like  evangels  among  the  people,  and  making 
some  man,  woman,  or  child  happier,  or  wiser,  or  better — 
more  patient  or  more  hopeful — by  their  utterances.  Believ 
ing  that  every  earnest  author's  mind  should  prove  a  mint, 
where  all  valuable  ores  are  collected  from  the  rich  veins  of 
a  universe — are  cautiously  coined,  and  thence  munificently 
circulated — she  applied  herself  diligently  to  the  task  of 
gathering,  from  various  sources  the  data  required  for  her 
projected  work:  a  vindication  of  the  unity  of  mythologies. 
The  vastness  of  the  cosmic  field  she  was  now  compelled  to 
traverse,  the  innumerable  ramifications  of  polytheistic  and 
monotheistic  creeds,  necessitated  unwearied  research,  as 
she  rent  asunder  the  superstitious  veils  which  various  nations 
and  successive  epochs  had  woven  before  the  shining  features 
of  truth.  To-day  peering  into  the  golden  Gardens  of  the 
Sun  at  Cuzco ;  to-morrow  clambering  over  Thibet  glaciers, 
to  find  the  mystic  lake  of  Yamuna;  now  delighted  to  recog 
nize  in  Teoyamiqui  (the  wife  of  the  Aztec  God  of  War)  the 
unmistakable  features  of  Scandinavian  Valkyrias;  and  now 
surprised  to  discover  the  Greek  Fates  sitting  under  the 
Norse  tree  Ygdrasil,  deciding  the  destinies  of  mortals,  and 
calling  themselves  Nornas;  she  spent  her  days  in  pilgrim 
ages  to  mouldering  shrines,  and  midnight  often  found  her 
groping  in  the  classic  dust  of  extinct  systems.  Having  once 
grappled  with  her  theme,  she  wrestled  as  obstinately  as 
Jacob  for  the  blessing  of  a  successful  solution,  and  in  order 
to  popularize  a  subject  bristling  with  recondite  archaisms 
and  philologic  problems,  she  cast  it  in  the  mould  of  fiction. 
The  information  and  pleasure  which  she  had  derived  from 
the  perusal  of  Vaughan's  delightful  Hours  with  the  Mystics, 
suggested  the  idea  of  adopting  a  similar  plan  for  her  own 
book,  and  investing  it  with  the  additional  interest  of  a  com 
plicated  plot  and  more  numerous  characters.  To  avoid 
anachronisms,  she  endeavored  to  treat  the  religions  of  the 


142  ST.  ELMO. 

world  in  their  chronologic  sequence,  and  resorted  to  the 
expedient  of  introducing  pagan  personages.  A  fair  young 
priestess  of  the  temple  of  Neith,  in  the  sacred  city  of  Sais — 
where  people  of  all  climes  collected  to  witness  the  festival  of 
lamps — becoming  skeptical  of  the  miraculous  attributes  of 
the  statues  she  had  been  trained  to  serve  and  worship,  and 
impelled  by  an  earnest  love  of  truth  to  seek  a  faith  that 
would  satisfy  her  reason  and  purify  her  heart,  is  induced  to 
question  minutely  the  religious  tenets  of  travellers  who  vis 
ited  the  temple,  and  thus  familiarized  herself  with  all  exist 
ing  creeds  and  hierarchies.  The  lore  so  carefully  garnered 
is  finally  analyzed,  classified,  and  inscribed  on  papyrus.  The 
delineation  of  scenes  and  sanctuaries  in  different  latitudes, 
from  Lhasa  to  Copan,  gave  full  exercise  to  Edna's  descrip 
tive  power,  but  imposed  much  labor  in  the  departments  of 
physical  geography  and  architecture. 

Verily!  an  ambitious  literary  programme  for  a  girl  over 
whose  head  scarcely  eighteen  years  had  hung  their  dripping 
drab  wintry  skies,  and  pearly  summer  clouds. 

One  March  morning,  as  Edna  entered  the  breakfast-room, 
she  saw  unusual  gravity  printed  on  Mrs.  Murray's  face; 
and  observing  an  open  letter  on  the  table  conjectured  the 
cause  of  her  changed  countenance.  A  moment  after  the 
master  came  in,  and  as  he  seated  himself  his  mother  said : 

"St.  Elmo,  your  cousin  Estelle's  letter  contains  bad  news. 
Her  father  is  dead;  the  estate  is  wretchedly  insolvent;  and 
she  is  coming  to  reside  with  us." 

"Then  I  am  off  for  Hammerfest  and  the  midnight  sun! 
Who  the  deuce  invited  her  I  should  like  to  know?" 

"Remember  she  is  my  sister's  child;  she  has  no  other 
home,  and  I  am  sure  it  is  very  natural  that  she  should  come 
to  me,  her  nearest  relative,  for  sympathy  and  protection." 

"Write  to  her  by  return  mail  that  you  will  gladly  allow 
her  three  thousand  a  year,  provided  she  ensconces  herself 
under  some  other  roof  than  this." 

"Impossible!    I  could  not  wound  her  so  deeply." 

"You  imagine  that  she  entertains  a  most  tender  and  pro 
found  regard  for  both  of  us?" 

"Certainly,  my  son ;  we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that 
she  does." 

Leaning  back  in  his  chair,  St.  Elmo  laughed. 


ST.  ELMO. 


143 


"I  should  really  enjoy  stumbling  upon  something  that 
would  overtax  your  most  marvellous  and  indefinitely  exten 
sible  credulity !  When  Estelle  Harding  becomes  an  inmate 
of  this  house  I  shall  pack  my  valise,  and  start  to  Tromso ! 
She  approaches  like  Discord,  uninvited,  armed  with  an  apple 
or  a  dagger.  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  share  my  fortune 
with  her,  but  I'll  swear  I  would  rather  prowl  for  a  month 
through  the  plague-stricken  district  of  Constantinople  than 
see  her  domesticated  here !  You  tried  the  experiment  when 
she  was  a  child,  and  we  fought  and  scratched  as  indefatig- 
ably  as  those  two  amiable  young  Theban  bullies,  who  are 
so  often  cited  as  scarecrows  for  quarrelsome  juveniles.  Of 
course,  we  shall  renew  the  battle  at  sight." 

"But,  my  dear  son,  there  are  claims  urged  by  natural 
affection  which  it  is  impossible  to  ignore.  Poor  Estelle  is 
very  desolate,  and  has  a  right  to  our  sympathy  and  love." 

"Poor  Estelle!  Haredtpet&l  The  frailties  of  old  Rome 
survive  her  virtues  and  her  ruins !" 

Mr.  Murray  laughed  again,  beat  a  tattoo  with  his  fork  on 
the  edge  of  his  plate,  and,  rising,  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Murray  looked  puzzled,  and  said: 

"Edna,  do  you  know  what  he  meant?  He  aften  amuses 
himself  by  mystifying  me,  and  I  will  not  gratify  him  by 
asking  an  explanation." 

"PIccredipcta  were  legacy-hunters  in  Rome,  where  their 
sycophantic  devotion  to  people  of  wealth  furnished  a  con 
stant  theme  for  satire." 

Mrs.  Murray  sighed  heavily,  and  the  orphan  asked: 

"When  do  you  expect  your  niece?" 

"Day  after  to-morrow.  I  have  not  seen  her  for  some 
years,  but  report  says  she  is  very  fascinating,  and  even  St. 
Elmo,  who  met  her  in  Europe,  admits  that  she  is  handsome. 
As  you  heard  him  say  just  now,  they  formerly  quarreled 
most  outrageously  and  shamefully,  and  he  took  an  unac 
countable  aversion  to  her;  but  I  trust  all  juvenile  reminis 
cences  will  vanish  when  they  know  each  other  better.  My 
dear,  I  have  several  engagements  for  to-day,  and  I  must 
rely  upon  you  to  superintend  the  arrangement  of  Estelle's 
room.  She  will  occupy  the  one  next  to  yours.  See  that 
everything  is  in  order.  You  know  Hagar  is  sick,  and  the 
other  servants  are  careless." 


144  ST- 

Sympathy  for  Miss  Hardings  recent  and  severe  affliction 
prepared  Edna's  heart  to  receive  her  cordially,  and  the  fact 
that  an  irreconcilable  feud  eristed  between  the  stranger  and 
St.  Elmo,  induced  the  orphan  to  hope  that  she  might  find  a 
congenial  companion  in  the  expected  visitor. 

On  the  afternoon  of  her  arrival,  Edna  leaned  eagerly  for 
ward  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  countenance,  and  as  she 
threw  back  her  long  mourning-veil,  and  received  her  aunt's 
affectionate  greeting,  the  first  impression  was,  "How  ex 
ceedingly  handsome — how  commanding  she  is !"  But  a  few 
minutes  later,  when  Mrs.  Murray  introduced  them,  and  the 
stranger's  keen,  bright,  restless  eyes  fell  upon  the  orphan's 
face,  the  latter  drew  back,  involuntarily  repelled,  and  a 
slight  shiver  crept  over  her,  for  an  unerring  instinctive  re 
pulsion  told  her  they  could  never  be  friends. 

Estelle  Harding  was  no  longer  young ;  years  had  hardened 
the  outline  of  her  features,  and  imparted  a  certain  staidness 
or  fixedness  to  her  calm  countenance,  where  strong  feeling 
or  passionate  impulse  was  never  permitted  to  slip  the  ele 
gant  mask  of  polished  suavity.  She  was  surprisingly  like 
Mrs.  Murray,  but  not  one  line  of  her  face  resembled  her 
cousin's.  Fixing  her  eyes  on  Edna,  with  a  cold,  almost 
stern  scrutiny  more  searching  than  courteous,  she  said: 

"I  was  not  aware,  Aunt  Ellen,  that  you  had  company  in 
the  house." 

"I  have  no  company  at  present,  my  dear.  Edna  resides 
here.  Do  you  not  remember  one  of  my  letters  in  which  I 
mentioned  the  child  who  was  injured  by  the  railroad  acci 
dent?" 

"True.    I  expected  to  see  a  child,  certainly  not  a  woman." 

"She  seems  merely  a  child  to  me.  But  come  up  to  your 
room ;  you  must  be  very  much  fatigued  by  your  journey." 

When  they  left  the  sitting-room  Edna  sat  down  in  one 
corner  of  the  sofa,  disappointed  and  perplexed. 

"She  does  not  like  me,  that  is  patent;  and  I  certainly  do 
not  like  her.  She  is  handsome  and  very  graceful,  and  quite 
heartless.  There  is  no  inner  light  from  her  soul  shining  in 
her  eyes ;  nothing  tender  and  loving  and  kind  in  their  clear 
depths;  they  are  cold,  bright  eyes,  but  not  soft,  winning, 
womanly  eyes.  They  might,  and  doubtless  would,  hold  an 
angry  dog  in  check,  but  never  draw  a  tired,  fretful  child 


ST.  ELMO.  145 

to  lean  its  drooping  head  on  her  lap.  If  she  really  has  any 
feeling,  her  eyes  should  be  indicted  for  slander.  I  am  sorry 
I  don't  like  her,  and  I  am  afraid  we  never  shall  be  nearer 
each  other  than  touching  our  finger-tips." 

Such  was  Edna's  unsatisfactory  conclusion,  and  dismiss 
ing  the  subject,  she  picked  up  a  book,  and  read  until  the 
ladies  returned  and  seated  themselves  around  the  fire. 

To  Mrs.  Murray's  great  chagrin  and  mortification  her  son 
had  positively  declined  going  to  meet  his  cousin,  had  been 
absent  since  breakfast,  and  proved  himself  shamefully  dere 
lict  in  the  courtesy  demanded  of  him.  It  was  almost  dark 
when  the  quick  gallop  of  his  horse  announced  his  return, 
and,  as  he  passed  the  window  on  his  way  to  the  stables, 
Edna  noticed  a  sudden  change  in  Estelle's  countenance. 
During  the  next  quarter  of  an  hour  her  eyes  never  wandered 
from  the  door,  though  her  head  was  turned  to  listen  to  Mrs. 
Murray's  remarks.  Soon  after,  Mr.  Murray's  rapid  foot 
steps  sounded  in  the  hall,  and  as  he  entered  she  rose  and 
advanced  to  meet  him.  He  held  out  his  hand,  shook  hers 
vigorously,  and  said,  as  he  dropped  it: 

"Mine  ancient  enemy,  declare  a  truce  and  quiet  my  appre 
hensions;  for  I  dreamed  last  night  that,  on  sight,  we  flew 
at  each  other's  throats,  and  renewed  the  sanguinary  scurries 
of  our  juvenile  acquaintance.  Most  appallingly  vivid  is  my 
recollection  of  a  certain  scar  here  on  my  left  arm,  where 
you  set  your  pearly  teeth  some  years  ago." 

"My  dear  cousin,  as  I  have  had  no  provocation  since  I 
was  separated  from  you,  I  believe  I  have  grown  harmless 
and  amiable.  How  very  well  you  look,  St.  Elmo." 

"Thank  you.  I  should  like  to  return  the  compliment,  but 
facts  forbid.  You  are  thinner  than  when  we  dined  together 
in  Paris.  Are  you  really  in  love  with  that  excruciating 
Brummell  of  a  Count  who  danced  such  indefatigable  at 
tendance  upon  you?" 

"To  whom  do  you  allude?" 

"That  youth  with  languishing  brown  eyes,  who  parted 
his  'hyacinthine  tresses'  in  the  middle  of  his  head;  whose 
moustache  required  Ehrenberg's  strongest  glasses — and  who 
absolutely  believed  that  Ristori  singled  him  out  of  her  vast 
audiences  as  the  most  appreciative  of  her  listeners ;  who  was 
eternally  humming  'Ernani'  and  raving  about  'Traviata.' 


146  ST.  ELMO. 

Your  memory  is  treacherous — as  your  conscience?  Well, 
then,  that  man,  who  I  once  told  you  reminded  me  of  what 
Guilleragues  is  reported  to  have  said  about  Pelisson,  'that 
he  abused  the  permission  men  have  to  be  ugly.'  " 

"Ah !  you  mean  poor  Victor !  He  spent  the  winter  in  Se 
ville.  I  had  a  letter  last  week." 

"When  do  you  propose  to  make  him  my  cousin?" 

"Not  until  I  become  an  inmate  of  a  lunatic  asylum." 

"Poor  wretch!  If  he  only  had  courage  to  sue  you  for 
breach  of  promise,  I  would,  with  pleasure,  furnish  sufficient 
testimony  to  convict  you  and  secure  him  heavy  damages ; 
for  I  will  swear  you  played  fiancee  to  perfection.  Your  lav 
ish  expenditure  of  affection  seemed  to  me  altogether  un 
called  for,  considering  the  fact  that  the  fish  already  floun 
dered  at  your  feet." 

The  reminiscence  evidently  annoyed  her,  though  her  lips 
smiled,  and  Edna  saw  that,  while  his  words  were  pointed 
with  a  sarcasm  lost  upon  herself,  it  was  fully  appreciated 
by  his  cousin. 

"St.  Elmo,  I  am  sorry  to  see  that  you  have  not  improved 
one  iota;  that  all  your  wickedness  clings  to  you  like  Sin- 
bad's  burden." 

Standing  at  his  side,  she  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

As  he  looked  down  at  her,  his  lips  curled. 

"Nevertheless,  Estelle,  I  find  a  pale  ghost  of  pity  for 
you  wandering  up  and  down  what  was  once  my  heart.  After 
the  glorious  intoxication  of  Parisian  life,  how  can  you  en 
dure  the  tedium  of  this  dullest  of  humdrum — this  most  moral 
and  stupid  of  all  country  towns?  Little  gossip,  few  flirta 
tions,  neither  beaux  esprits  nor  bons  vivants — what  will  be 
come  of  you?  Now,  whatever  amusement,  edification,  or 
warning  you  may  be  able  to  extract  from  my  society,  I 
here  beg  permission  to  express  the  hope  that  you  will  ap 
propriate  unsparingly.  I  shall,  with  exemplary  hospitality, 
dedicate  myself  to  your  service — shall  try  to  make  amends 
for  voire  cher  Victor's  absence,  and  solemnly  promise  to  do 
everything  in  my  power  to  assist  you  in  strangling  time, 
except  parting  my  hair  in  the  middle  of  my  head,  and  mak 
ing  love  to  you.  With  these  stipulated  reservations,  com 
mand  me  ad  libitum" 


ST.  ELMO.  147 

Her  face  flushed  slightly,  she  withdrew  her  hand  and  sat 
down. 

Taking  his  favorite  position  on  the  rug,  with  one  hand 
thrust  into  his  pocket  and  the  other  dallying  with  his  watch- 
chain,  Mr.  Murray  continued: 

"Entire  honesty  on  my  part,  and  a  pardonable  and  amiable 
weakness  for  descanting  on  the  charms  of  my  native  village, 
compel  me  to  assure  you,  that,  notwithstanding  the  depriva 
tion  of  opera  and  theatre,  bal  masque  and  the  Bois  de  Bo- 
logne,  I  believe  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  that  the  tone 
of  society  here  is  quite  up  to  the  lofty  standard  of  the 
'Society  of  Arcueil,'  or  even  the  requirements  of  the  Acad 
emy  of  Sciences.  Our  pastors  are  erudite  as  Abelard,  and 
rigid  as  Trappists;  our  young  ladies  are  learned  as  that 
ancient  blue-stocking  daughter  of  Pythagoras,  and  as  pious 
as  St.  Salvia,  who  never  washed  her  face.  For  instance, 
girls  yet  in  their  teens  are  much  better  acquainted  with 
Hebrew  than  Miriam  was,  when  she  sung  it  on  the  shore  of 
the  Red  Sea  (where,  by  the  by,  Talmudic  tradition  says 
Pharaoh  was  not  drowned),  and  they  will  vehemently  con 
tend  for  the  superiority  of  the  Targum  of  Onkelos  over  that 
on  the  Hagiographa,  ascribed  to  one-eyed  Joseph  of  Sora! 
You  look  incredulous,  my  fair  cousin.  Nay,  permit  me  to 
complete  the  inventory  of  the  acquirements  of  your  future 
companions.  They  quote  fluently  from  the  Megilloth,  and 
will  entertain  you  by  fighting  over  again  the  battle  of  the 
school  of  Hillel  versus  the  school  of  Shammai !  Their  at 
tainments  in  philology  reflect  discredit  on  the  superficiality 
of  Max  Miiller;  and  if  an  incidental  allusion  is  made  to 
archaeology,  lo !  they  bombard  you  with  a  broadside  of  au 
thorities,  and  recondite  terminology  that  would  absolutely 
make  the  hair  of  Lepsius  and  Champollion  stand  on  end. 
I  assure  you  the  savants  of  the  Old  World  would  catch  their 
breath  with  envious  amazement,  if  they  could  only  enjoy  the 
advantage  of  the  conversation  of  these  orthodox  and  erudite 
refugees  from  the  nursery!  The  unfortunate  men  of  this 
community  are  kept  in  pitiable  terror  lest  they  commit  an 
anachronism,  and  if,  after  a  careful  reconnoissance  of  the 
slippery  ground,  they  tremblingly  venture  an  anecdote  of 
Selwyn  or  Hood,  or  Beaumarchais,  they  are  invariably 
driven  back  in  confusion  by  the  inquiry,  if  they  remember 


148  ST.  ELMO. 

this  or  that  bon  mot  uttered  at  the  court  of  Aurungzebe  or 
of  one  of  the  early  Incas!  Ah!  would  I  were  Moliere  to 
repaint  Les  Precieuses  Ridicules!" 

Although  his  eyes  had  never  once  wandered  from  his 
cousin's  face,  toward  the  corner  where  Edna  sat  embroid 
ering  some  mats,  she  felt  the  blood  burning  in  her  cheeks, 
and  forced  herself  to  look  up.  At  that  moment,  as  he  stood 
in  the  soft  glow  of  the  firelight,  he  was  handsomer  than  she 
had  ever  seen  him;  and  when  he  glanced  swiftly  over  his 
shoulder  to  mark  the  effect  of  his  words,  their  eyes  met,  and 
she  smiled  involuntarily. 

"For  shame,  St.  Elmo !  I  will  have  you  presented  by  the 
grand  jury  of  this  county  for  wholesome  defamation  of  the 
inhabitants  thereof,"  said  his  mother,  shaking  her  finger 
at  him. 

Estelle  laughed  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"My  poor  cousin!  how  I  pity  you,  and  the  remainder  of 
the  men  here,  surrounded  by  such  a  formidable  coterie  of 
blues." 

"Believe  me,  even  if  their  shadows  are  as  blue  as  those 
which  I  have  seen  thrown  upon  the  snow  of  Eyriks  Jokull, 
in  Iceland,  where  I  would  have  sworn  that  every  shade  cast 
on  the  mountain  was  a  blot  of  indigo.  Sometimes  I  seriously 
contemplate  erecting  an  observatory  and  telescope,  in  order 
to  sweep  our  sky  and  render  visible  what  I  am  convinced 
exist  there  undiscovered — some  of  those  deep  blue  nebulas 
which  Sir  John  Herschel  found  in  the  southern  hemisphere ! 
If  the  astronomical  conjectures  be  correct,  concerning  the 
possibility  of  a  galaxy  of  blue  stars,  a  huge  cluster  hangs 
in  this  neighborhood  and  furnishes  an  explanation  of  the 
color  of  the  women." 

"Henceforth,  St.  Elmo,  the  sole  study  of  my  life  shall  be 
to  forget  my  alphabet.  Miss  Earl,  do  you  understand  He 
brew?" 

"Oh,  no;  I  have  only  begun. to  study  it" 

"Estelle,  it  is  the  popular  and  fashionable  amusement 
here.  Young  ladies  and  young  gentlemen  form  classes  for 
mutual  aid  and  'mutual  admiration,'  while  they  clasp  hands 
over  the  Masora.  If  Lord  Brougham,  and  other  members  of 
the  'Society  for  the  Diffusion  of  Useful  Knowledge,'  could 
only  have  been  induced  to  investigate  the  intellectual  status 


ST.  ELMO.  149 

of  the  'rising  generation'  of  our  village,  there  is  little  room 
to  doubt  that,  as  they  are  not  deemed  advocates  for  works 
of  supererogation,  they  would  long  ago  have  appreciated  the 
expediency  of  disbanding  said  society.  I  imagine  Tennyson 
is  a  clairvoyant,  and  was  looking  at  the  young  people  of  this 
vicinage,  when  he  wrote : 

'  Knowledge  comes,  but  wisdom  lingers.' 

Not  even  egoistic  infallible  'Brain  Town' — that  self-com 
placent  and  pretentious  'Hub/  can  show  a  more  ambitious 
covey  of  literary  fledgelings!" 

"Your  random  firing  seems  to  produce  no  confusion  on 
the  part  of  your  game,"  answered  his  cousin,  withdrawing 
her  gaze  from  Edna's  tranquil  features,  on  which  a  half 
smile  still  lingered. 

He  did  not  seem  to  hear  her  words,  but  his  eyebrows 
thickened,  as  he  draw  a  couple  of  letters  from  his  pocket 
and  looked  at  the  superscription. 

Giving  one  to  his  mother,  who  sat  looking  over  a  news 
paper,  he  crossed  the  room  and  silently  laid  the  other  on 
Edna's  lap. 

It  was  post-marked  in  a  distant  city  and  directed  in  a 
gentleman's  large,  round  business  handwriting.  The  girl's 
face  flushed  with  pleasure  as  she  broke  the  seal,  glanced  at 
the  signature,  and  without  pausing  for  a  perusal,  hastily  put 
the  letter  into  her  pocket. 

"Who  can  be  writing  to  you,  Edna?"  asked  Mrs.  Mur 
ray,  when  she  had  finished  reading  her  own  letter. 

"Oh !  doubtless  some  Syrian  scribe  has  indited  a  Chaldee 
billet-doux,  which  she  can  not  spell  out  without  the  friendly 
aid  of  dictionary  and  grammar.  Permit  her  to  withdraw 
and  decipher  it.  Meantime  here  comes  Henry  to  announce 
dinner,  and  a  plate  of  soup  will  strengthen  her  for  her 
task." 

Mr.  Murray  offered  his  arm  to  his  cousin,  and  during 
dinner  he  talked  constantly,  rapidly,  brilliantly  of  men  and 
things  abroad ;  now  hurling  a  sarcasm  at  Estelle's  head, 
now  laughing  at  his  mother's  expostulations,  and  studiously 
avoiding  any  further  notice  of  Edna,  who  was  never  so 


150  ST.  ELMO. 

thoroughly  at  ease  as  when  he  seemed  to  forget  her  pres 
ence. 

Estelle  sat  at  his  right  hand,  and  suddenly  refilling  his 
glass  with  bubbling  champagne,  he  leaned  over  and  whis 
pered  a  few  words  in  her  ear  that  brought  a  look  of  sur 
prise  and  pleasure  into  her  eyes.  Edna  only  saw  the  ex 
pression  of  his  face,  and  the  tenderness,  the  pleading  writ 
ten  there  astonished  and  puzzled  her.  The  next  moment 
they  rose  from  the  table,  and  as  Mr.  Murray  drew  his 
cousin's  hand  under  his  arm,  Edna  hurried  away  to  her  own 
room. 

Among  the  numerous  magazines  to  which  St.  Elmo  sub 
scribed  was  one  renowned  for  the  lofty  tone  of  its  articles 
and  the  asperity  of  its  carping  criticisms,  and  this  periodical 
Edna  always  singled  out  and  read  with  avidity. 

The  name  of  the  editor  swung  in  terrorum  in  the  imagi 
nation  of  all  humble  authorlings,  and  had  become  a  synonym 
for  merciless  critical  excoriation. 

To  this  literary  Fouquier  Tinville,  the  orphan  had  dar 
ingly  written  some  weeks  before,  stating  her  determination 
to  attempt  a  book,  and  asking  permission  to  submit  the  first 
chapter  to  his  searching  inspection.  She  wrote  that  she  ex 
pected  him  to  find  faults — he  always  did ;  and  she  preferred 
that  her  work  should  be  roughly  handled  by  him,  rather  than 
patted  and  smeared  with  faint  praise  by  men  of  inferior 
critical  astuteness. 

The  anxiously  expected  reply  had  come  at  last,  and  as  she 
locked  her  door  and  sat  down  to  read  it,  she  trembled  from 
head  to  foot.  In  the  centre  of  a  handsome  sheet  of  tinted 
paper  she  found  these  lines : 

"MADAM  :  In  reply  to  your  very  extraordinary  request  I 
have  the  honor  to  inform  you,  that  my  time  is  so  entirely 
consumed  by  necessary  and  important  claims,  that  I  find  no 
leisure  at  my  command  for  the  examination  of  the  embry 
onic  chapter  of  a  contemplated  book.  I  am,  madam, 
"Very  respectfully, 

"DOUGLASS  G.  MANNING." 

Tears  of  disappointment  filled  her  eyes  and  for  a  moment 
she  bit  her  lip  with  uncontrolled  vexation;  then  refolding 


ST.  ELMO.  151 

the  letter,  she  put  it  in  a  drawer  of  her  desk,  and  said  sor 
rowfully: 

"I  certainly  had  no  right  to  expect  anything  more  polite 
from  him.  He  snubs  even  his  popular  contributors,  and  of 
course  he  would  not  be  particularly  courteous  to  an  un 
known  scribbler.  Perhaps  some  day  I  may  make  him  regret 
that  letter;  and  such  a  triumph  will  more  than  compensate 
for  this  mortification.  One  might  think  that  all  literary 
people,  editors,  authors,  reviewers,  would  sympathize  with 
each  other,  and  stretch  out  their  hands  to  aid  one  another ! 
but  it  seems  there  is  less  free-masonry  among  literati  than 
other  guilds.  They  wage  an  internecine  war  among  them 
selves,  though  it  certainly  can  not  be  termed  'civil  strife/ 
judging  from  Mr.  Douglass  Manning's  letter." 

Chagrined  and  perplexed  she  walked  up  and  down  the 
room,  wondering  what  step  would  be  most  expedient  in  the 
present  state  of  affairs;  and  trying  to  persuade  herself  that 
she  ought  to  consult  Mr.  Hammond.  But  she  wished  to  sur 
prise  him,  to  hear  his  impartial  opinion  of  a  printed  article 
which  he  could  not  suspect  that  she  had  written,  and  finally 
she  resolved  to  say  nothing  to  any  one,  to  work  on  in  silence, 
relying  upon  herself.  With  this  determination  she  sat  down 
before  her  desk,  opened  the  MS.  of  her  book,  and  very  socn 
became  absorbed  in  writing  the  second  chapter.  Before  she 
had  finished  even  the  first  sentence  a  hasty  rap  summoned 
her  to  the  door. 

She  opened  it,  and  found  Mr.  Murray  standing  in  the 
hall,  with  a  candle  in  his  hand. 

"Where  is  that  volume  of  chess  problems  which  you  had 
last  week?" 

"It  is  here,  sir." 

She  took  it  from  the  table,  and  as  she  approached  him, 
Mr.  Murray  held  the  light  close  to  her  countenance,  and 
gave  her  one  of  those  keen  looks  which  always  reminded 
her  of  the  descriptions  of  the  scrutiny  of  the  Council  of  Ten, 
in  the  days  when  "lions'  mouths"  grinned  at  the  street-cor 
ners  in  Venice. 

Something  in  the  curious  expression  of  his  face,  and  the 
evident  satisfaction  which  he  derived  from  his  hasty  investi 
gation,  told  Edna  that  the  book  was  a  mere  pretext.  She 
drew  back  and  asked: 


1 52  ST.  ELMO. 

"Have  I  any  other  book  that  you  need?" 

"No ;  I  have  all  I  came  for." 

Smiling  half  mischievously,  half  maliciously,  he  turned 
and  left  her. 

"I  wonder  what  he  saw  in  my  face  that  amused  him  ?" 

She  walked  up  to  the  bureau  and  examined  her  own 
image  in  the  mirror ;  and  there,  on  her  cheeks,  were  the  un 
mistakable  traces  of  the  tears  of  vexation  and  disappoint 
ment. 

"At  least  he  can  have  no  idea  of  the  cause,  and  that  is 
some  comfort,  for  he  is  too  honorable  to  open  my  letters." 

But  just  here  a  doubt  flashed  into  her  mind. 

"How  do  I  know  that  he  is  honorable?  Can  any  man  be 
worthy  of  trust  who  holds  nothing  sacred,  and  sneers  at  all 
religions  ?  No  ;  he  has  no  conscience ;  and  yet " 

She  sighed  and  went  back  to  her  MS.,  and  though  for  a 
while  St.  Elmo  Murray's  mocking  eyes  seemed  to  glitter  on 
the  pages,  her  thoughts  ere  long  were  anchored  once  more 
with  the  olive-crowned  priestess  in  the  temple  at  Sais. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

IF  the  seers  of  geology  are  correct  in  assuming  that  the 
age  of  the  human  race  is  coincident  with  that  of  the  alluvial 
stratum,  from  eighty  to  one  hundred  centuries,  are  not  do 
mestic  traditions  and  household  customs  the  great  arteries 
in  which  beat  the  social  life  of  humanity,  linking  the  race 
in  homogeneity?  Roman  women  suffered  no  first  day  of 
May  pass  without  celebrating  the  festival  of  Bona  Dea; 
and  two  thousand  years  later,  girls  who  know  as  little  of  the 
manners  and  customs  of  ancient  Italy,  as  of  the  municipal 
regulations  of  fabulous  "Manoa,"  lie  down  to  sleep  on  the 
last  day  of  April,  and  kissing  the  fond,  maternal  face  that 
bends  above  their  pillows,  eagerly  repeat: 

"  You  must  wake  and  call  me  early,  call  me  early,  mother  dear : 
To-morrow  '11  be  the  happiest  time  of  all  the  glad  new-year; 
Of  all  the  glad  new-year,  mother,  the  maddest,  merriest  day, 
For  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May.  mother;   I'm  to  be  Queen  o' 
the  May." 

For  a  fortnight  Edna  had  been  busily  engaged  in  writing 
colloquies  and  speeches  for  the  Sabbath-school  children  of 
the  village,  and  in  attending  the  rehearsals  for  the  perfec 
tion  of  the  various  parts.  Assisted  by  Mr.  Hammond  and 
the  ladies  of  his  congregation,  she  had  prepared  a  varied 
programme,  and  was  almost  as  much  interested  in  the  suc 
cess  of  the  youthful  orators,  as  the  superintendent  of  the 
school,  or  the  parents  of  the  children.  The  day  was  pro 
pitious — clear,  balmy,  all  that  could  be  asked  of  the  blue- 
eyed  month — and  as  the  festival  was  to  be  celebrated  in  a 
beautiful  grove  of  elms  and  chestnuts,  almost  in  sight  of  Le 
Bocage,  Edna  went  over  very  early  to  aid  in  arranging  the 
tables,  decking  the  platforms  with  flowers,  and  training  one 
juvenile  Demosthenes,  whose  elocution  was  as  unpromising 
as  that  of  his  Greek  model. 

Despite  her  patient  teaching  this  boy's  awkwardness 

[153] 


154 


ST.  ELMO. 


threatened  to  spoil  everything,  and  as  she  watched  the  nerv 
ous  wringing  of  his  hands  and  desperate  shuffling  of  his 
feet,  she  was  tempted  to  give  him  up  in  despair.  The  dew 
hung  heavily  on  grass  and  foliage,  and  the  matin  carol  of 
the  birds  still  swelled  through  the  leafy  aisles  of  the  grove, 
when  she  took  the  trembling  boy  to  a  secluded  spot,  cfi- 
rected  him  to  stand  on  a  mossy  log,  where  two  lizards  lay 
blinking,  and  repeat  his  speech. 

He  stammered  most  unsatisfactorily  through  it,  and,  in 
tent  on  his  improvement,  Edna  climbed  upon  a  stump  and 
delivered  his  speech  for  him,  gesticulating  and  emphasizing 
just  as  she  wished  him  to  do.  As  the  last  words  of  the 
peroration  passed  her  lips,  and  while  she  stood  on  the 
stump,  a  sudden  clapping  of  hands  startled  her,  and  Gordon 
Leigh's  cheerful  voice  exclaimed: 

"Encore!  Encore!  Since  the  days  of  Hypatia  you  have 
not  had  your  equal  among  female  elocutionists.  I  would 
not  have  missed  it  for  any  consideration,  so  pray  forgive 
me  for  eavesdropping."  He  came  forward,  held  out  his 
hand  and  added:  "Allow  me  to  assist  you  in  dismounting 
from  your  temporary  rostrum,  whence  you  bear  your 
'blushing  honors  thick  upon  you.'  Jamie,  do  you  think  you 
can  do  as  well  as  Miss  Edna  when  your  time  comes  ?" 

"Oh!  no,  sir;  but  I  will  try  not  to  make  her  ashamed  of 
me." 

He  snatched  his  hat  from  the  log  and  ran  off,  leaving  his 
friends  to  walk  back  more  leisurely  to  the  spot  selected  for 
the  tables.  Edna  had  been  too  much  disconcerted  by  his 
unexpected  appearance,  to  utter  a  word  until  now,  and  her 
tone  expressed  annoyance  as  she  said : 

"I  am  very  sorry  you  interrupted  me,  for  Jamie  will  make 
an  ignominious  failure.  Have  you  nothing  better  to  do  than 
stray  about  the  woods  like  a  satyr?" 

"I  am  quite  willing  to  be  satyrized  even  by  you  on  this 
occasion;  for  what  man,  whose  blood  is  not  curdled  by 
cynicism,  can  prefer  to  spend  Mayday  among  musty  law 
books  and  red  tape,  when  he  has  the  alternative  of  listening 
to  such  declamation  as  you  favored  me  with  just  now,  or  of 
participating  in  the  sports  of  one  hundred  happy  children? 
Beside,  my  good  'familiar,'  or  rather  my  sortes  Pr&nestinie, 
told  me  that  I  should  find  you  here ;  and  I  wanted  to  see  you 


ST.  ELMO.  155 

before  the  company  assembled;  why  have  you  so  pertina 
ciously  avoided  me  of  late?" 

They  stood  close  to  each  other  in  the  shade  of  the  elms, 
and  Gordon  thought  that  never  before  had  she  looked  so 
beautiful,  as  the  mild  perfumed  breeze  stirred  the  folds  of 
her  dress,  and  fluttered  the  blue  ribbons  that  looped  her  hair 
and  girdled  her  waist. 

Just  at  that  instant,  ere  she  could  reply,  a  rustling  of  the 
undergrowth  arrested  further  conversation,  and  Mr.  Mur 
ray  stepped  out  of  the  adjoining  thicket,  with  his  gun  in  his 
hand,  and  his  grim  pet  Ali  at  his  heels.  Whatever  surprise 
he  may  have  felt,  his  countenance  certainly  betrayed  none, 
as  he  lifted  his  hat  and  said : 

"Good  morning,  Leigh.  I  shall  not  intrude  upon  the 
Sanhedrim,  on  which  I  have  happened  to  stumble,  longer 
than  is  necessary  to  ask  if  you  are  so  fortunate  as  to  have 
a  match  with  you?  I  find  my  case  empty." 

Mr.  Leigh  took  a  match  from  his  pocket,  and  while  Mr. 
Murray  lighted  his  cigar,  his  eyes  rested  for  an  instant  only 
on  Edna's  flushed  face. 

"Are  you  not  coming  to  the  children's  celebration  ?"  asked 
Gordon. 

"No,  indeed!  I  own  that  I  as  lazy  as  a  Turk;  but 
while  I  am  constitutionally  and  habitually  opposed  to  labor, 
I  swear  I  should  prefer  to  plough  or  break  stones  till  sun 
down,  sooner  than  listen  to  all  the  rant  and  fustian  that 
spectators  will  be  called  on  to  endure  this  morning.  I  have 
not  sufficient  courage  to  remain  and  witness  what  would 
certainly  recall  'the  manner  of  Bombastes  Furioso  making 
love  to  Distaffina!'  Will  you  have  a  cigar?  Good  morn 
ing." 

He  lifted  his  hat,  shouldered  his  gun,  and  calling  to  his 
dog,  disappeared  among  the  thick  undergrowth. 

"What  an  incorrigible  savage!"  muttered  Mr.  Leigh,  re 
placing  the  match-case  in  his  pocket. 

His  companion  made  no  answer  and  was  hurrying  on,  but 
he  caught  her  dress  and  detained  her. 

"Do  not  go  until  you  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to  you. 
More  than  once  you  have  denied  me  an  opportunity  of  ex 
pressing  what  you  must  long  ago  have  suspected.  Edna, 
you  know  very  well  that  I  love  you  better  than  every 


*$&:  ST.  ELMO. 

else — that  I  have  loved  you  from  the  first  day  of  our  ac 
quaintance;  and  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  my  happiness 
is  in  your  dear  little  hands;  that  my  future  will  be  joyless 
unless  you  share  it;  that  the  one  darling  hope  of  my  life  is 
to  call  you  my  wife.  Do  not  draw  your  hand  from  mine! 
Dear  Edna,  let  me  keep  it  always.  Do  I  mistake  your  feel 
ings  when  I  hope  that  you  return  my  affection?" 

"You  entirely  mistake  them,  Mr.  Leigh,  in  supposing  that 
you  can  ever  be  more  to  me  than  a  very  dear  and  valued 
friend.  It  grieves  me  very  much  to  be  forced  to  give  you 
pain  or  cause  you  disappointment;  but  I  should  wrong  you 
even  more  than  myself,  were  I  to  leave  you  in  doubt  con 
cerning  my  feeling  toward  you.  I  like  your  society,  and 
you  have  my  entire  confidence  and  highest  esteem ;  but  it  is 
impossible  that  I  can  ever  be  your  wife." 

"Why  impossible?" 

"Because  I  never  could  love  you  as  I  think  I  ought  to 
love  the  man  I  marry." 

"My  dear  Edna,  answer  one  question  candidly.  Do  you 
love  any  one  else  better  than  you  love  me?" 

"No,  Mr.  Leigh." 

"Does  Mr.  Murray  stand  between  your  heart  and  mine?" 

"Oh !  no,  Mr.  Leigh." 

"Then  I  will  not  yield  the  hope  of  winning  your  love.  If 
your  heart  is  free,  I  will  have  it  all  my  own  one  day!  O 
Edna!  why  can  not  you  love  me?  I  would  make  you  very 
happy.  My  darling's  home  should  possess  all  that  fortune 
and  devoted  affection  could  supply;  not  one  wish  should 
remain  ungratified." 

"I  am  able  to  earn  a  home;  I  do  not  intend  to  marry  for 
one." 

"Ah!  your  pride  is  your  only  fault,  and  it  will  cause  us 
both  much  suffering,  I  fear.  Edna,  I  know  how  sensitive 
you  are,  and  how  deeply  your  delicacy  has  been  wounded 
by  the  malicious  meddling  of  ill-mannered  gossips.  I  know 
why  you  abandoned  your  Hebrew  recitations,  and  a  wish 
to  spare  your  feelings  alone  prevented  me  from  punishing 
certain  scandal-mongers  as  they  deserved.  But,  dearest,  do 
not  visit  their  offences  upon  me !  Because  they  dared  ascribe 
their  own  ignoble  motives  to  you,  do  not  lock  your  heart 


ST.  ELMO.  157 

against  me  and  refuse  me  the  privilege  of  making  your  life 
happy." 

"Mr.  Leigh,  you  are  not  necessary  to  my  happiness.  While 
our  tastes  are  in  many  respects  congenial,  and  it  is  pleasant 
to  be  with  you  occasionally,  it  would  not  cause  me  any  deep 
grief  if  I  were  never  to  see  you  again." 

"O  Edna !  you  are  cruel,  unlike  yourself !" 

"Forgive  me,  sir,  if  I  seem  so,  and  believe  me  when  I 
assure  you  that  it  pains  me  more  to  say  it  than  you  to  hear 
it.  No  woman  should  marry  a  man  whose  affection  and 
society  are  not  absolutely  essential  to  her  peace  of  mind  and 
heart.  Applying  this  test  to  you,  I  find  that  mine  is  in  no 
degree  dependent  on  you ;  and,  though  you  may  have  no 
warmer  friend,  I  must  tell  you  it  is  utterly  useless  for  you 
to  hope  that  I  shall  ever  love  you  as  you  wish.  Mr.  Leigh,  I 
regret  that  I  can  not;  and  if  my  heart  were  only  puppet  of 
my  will,  I  would  try  to  reciprocate  your  affection,  because  I 
appreciate  so  fully  and  so  gratefully  all  that  you  generously 
offer  me.  To-day  you  stretch  out  your  hand  to  a  poor  girl, 
of  unknown  parentage,  reared  by  charity — a  girl  consid 
ered  by  your  family  and  friends  an  obscure  interloper  in 
aristocratic  circles,  and  with  a  noble  magnanimity,  for 
which  I  shall  thank  you  always,  you  say,  'Come,  take  my 
name,  share  my  fortune,  wrap  yourself  in  my  love,  and  be 
happy !  I  will  give  you  a  lofty  position  in  society,  whence 
you  can  look  down  on  those  who  sneer  at  your  poverty  and 
lineage.'  O,  Mr.  Leigh !  God  knows  I  wish  I  loved  you  as 
you  deserve !  Ambition  and  gratitude  alike  plead  for  you ; 
but  it  is  impossible  that  I  could  ever  consent  to  be  your 
wife." 

Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  she  looked  in  his  hand 
some  face,  hitherto  so  bright  and  genial ;  now  clouded  and 
saddened  by  a  bitter  disappointment;  and  suddenly  catch 
ing  both  his  hands  in  hers,  she  stooped  and  pressed  her  lips 
to  them. 

"Although  you  refuse  to  encourage,  you  cannot  crush  the 
hope  that  my  affection  will,  after  a  while,  win  yours  in  re 
turn.  You  are  very  young,  and  as  yet  scarcely  know  your 
own  heart,  and  unshaken  constancy  on  my  part  will  plead 
for  me  in  coming  }rears.  I  will  be  patient,  and  as  long  as 
you  are  Edna  Earl — as  long  as  you  remain  mistress  of  your 


158  ST.  ELMO. 

own  heart — I  shall  cling  fondly  to  the  only  hope  that  glad 
dens  my  future.  Over  my  feelings  you  have  no  control ;  you 
may  refuse  me  your  hand — that  is  your  right — but  while  I 
shall  abstain  from  demonstrations  of  affection,  I  shall  cer 
tainly  cherish  the  hope  of  possessing  it.  Meantime,  permit 
me  to  ask  whether  you  still  contemplate  leaving  Mrs.  Mur 
ray's  house?  Miss  Harding  told  my  sister  yesterday  that 
in  a  few  months  you  would  obtain  a  situation  as  governess 
or  teacher  in  a  school." 

"Such  is  certainly  my  intention;  but  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
conjecture  how  Miss  Harding  obtained  her  information,  as 
the  matter  has  not  been  alluded  to  since  her  arrival." 

"I  trust  you  will  pardon  me  the  liberty  I  take,  in  warn 
ing  you  to  be  exceedingly  circumspect  in  your  intercourse 
with  her,  for  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  her  sentiments 
toward  you  are  not  so  friendly  as  might  be  desired." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Leigh.  I  am  aware  of  her  antipathy, 
though  of  its  cause  I  am  ignorant;  and  our  intercourse  is 
limited  to  the  salutations  of  the  day,  and  the  courtesies  of 
the  table." 

Drawing  from  her  finger  the  emerald  which  had  occa 
sioned  so  many  disquieting  reflections,  Edna  continued: 

"You  must  allow  me  to  return  the  ring,  which  I  have 
hitherto  worn  as  a  token  of  friendship,  and  which  I  can 
not  consent  to  retain  any  longer.  'Peace  be  with  you,'  dear 
friend,  is  the  earnest  prayer  of  my  heart.  Our  paths  in  life 
will  soon  diverge  so  widely  that  we  shall  probably  see  each 
other  rarely;  but  none  of  your  friends  will  rejoice  more 
sincerely  than  I  to  hear  of  your  happiness  and  prosperity, 
for  no  one  else  has  such  cause  to  hold  you  in  grateful 
remembrance.  Good-bye,  Mr.  Leigh.  Think  of  me  here 
after  only  as  a  friend." 

She  gave  him  both  hands  for  a  minute,  left  the  ring  in  his 
palm,  and,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  went  back  to  the  tables 
and  platforms. 

Very  rapidly  chattering  groups  of  happy  children  col 
lected  in  the  grove;  red-cheeked  boys  clad  in  white  linen 
suits,  with  new  straw  hats  belted  with  black,  and  fair- 
browed  girls  robed  in  spotless  muslin,  garlanded  with  flow 
ers,  and  bright  with  rosy  badges.  Sparkling  eyes,  laughing 
lips,  sweet,  mirthful,  eager  voices,  and  shadowless  hearts. 


ST.  ELMO.  159 

Ah!  that  Mayday  could  stretch  from  the  fairy  tropic-land 
of  childhood  to  the  Arctic  zone  of  age,  where  snows  fall 
chilling  and  desolate,  drifting  over  the  dead  but  unburied 
hopes  which  the  great  stream  of  time  bears  and  buffets  on 
its  broad,  swift  surface. 

The  celebration  was  a  complete  success;  even  awkward 
Jamie  acquitted  himself  with  more  ease  and  grace  than  his 
friends  had  dared  to  hope.  Speeches  and  songs  were 
warmly  applauded,  proud  parents  watched  their  merry 
darlings  with  eyes  that  brimmed  with  tenderness ;  and  the 
heart  of  Semiramis  never  throbbed  more  triumphantly  than 
that  of  the  delighted  young  Queen  of  May,  who  would 
not  have  exchanged  her  floral  crown  for  all  the  jewels  that 
glittered  in  the  diadem  of  the  Assyrian  sovereign. 

Late  in  the  evening  of  that  festal  day  Mr.  Hammond  sat 
alone  on  the  portico  of  the  old-fashioned  parsonage.  The 
full  moon,  rising  over  the  arched  windows  of  the  neigh 
boring  church,  shone  on  the  marble  monuments  that 
marked  the  rows  of  graves;  and  the  golden  beams 
stealing  through  the  thick  vines  which  clustered  around 
the  wooden  columns,  broidered  in  glittering  arabesque  the 
polished  floor  at  the  old  man's  feet. 

That  solemn,  mysterious  silence  which  nature  reverently 
folds  like  a  velvet  pall  over  the  bier  of  the  pale,  dead  day, 
when  the  sky  is 

"  Filling  more  and  more  with  crystal  light, 
As  pensive  evening  deepens  into  night," 

was  now  hushing  the  hum  and  stir  of  the  village ;  and  only 
the  occasional  far-off  bark  of  a  dog,  and  the  clear,  sweet 
vesper-song  of  a  mocking-bird  singing  in  the  myrtle  tree, 
broke  the  repose  so  soothing  after  the  bustle  of  the  day. 
To  labor  and  to  pray  from  dawn  till  dusk  is  the  sole  legacy 
which  sin-stained  man  brought  through  the  flaming  gate  of 
Eden,  and,  in  the  gray  gloaming,  mother  Earth  stretches 
her  vast  hands  tenderly  over  her  drooping,  toil-spent  chil 
dren,  and  mercifully  murmurs  nunc  dimittis. 

Close  to  the  minister's  armchair  stood  a  small  table  cov 
ered  with  a  snowy  cloth,  on  which  was  placed  the  evening 
meal,  consisting  of  strawberries,  honey,  bread,  butter  and 
milk.  At  his  feet  lay  the  white  cat,  bathed  in  moonshine, 


160  ST.  ELMO. 

and  playing  with  a  fragrant  spray  of  honeysuckle  which 
trailed  within  reach  of  her  paws,  and  swung  to  and  fro,  like 
a  spicy  censer,  as  the  soft  breeze  stole  up  from  the  starry 
south.  The  supper  was  untasted,  the  old  man's  silvered 
head  leaned  wearily  on  his  shrunken  hand,  and  through  a 
tearful  mist  his  mild  eyes  looked  toward  the  churchyard, 
where  gleamed  the  monumental  shafts  that  guarded  his 
mouldering  household  idols,  his  white-robed,  darling  dead. 
His  past  was  a  wide,  fair,  fruitful  field  of  hallowed  labor, 
bounteous  with  promise  for  that  prophetic  harvest  whereof 
God's  angels  are  reapers;  and  his  future,  whose  near  hori 
zon  was  already  rimmed  with  the  light  of  eternity,  was  full 
of  that  blessed  'peace  which  passeth  all  understanding.' 
Yet  to-night,  precious  reminiscences  laid  their  soft,  mes 
meric  fingers  on  his  heart,  and  before  him,  all  unbidden, 
floated  visions  of  other  Maydays,  long,  long  ago,  when  the 
queen  of  his  boyish  affections  had  worn  her  crown  of  flow 
ers;  and  many,  many  years  later,  when,  as  the  queen  of  his 
home,  and  the  proud  mother  of  his  children,  she  had  stood 
with  her  quivering  hand  nestled  in  his,  listening  breathlessly 
to  the  Mayday  speech  of  their  golden-haired  daughter, 

"  Why  does  the  sea  of  thought  thus  backward  roll  ? 

Memory's  the  breeze  that  through  the  cordage  raves, 
And  ever  drives  us  on  some  homeward  shoal, 

As  if  she  loved  the  melancholy  waves 
That,  murmuring  shoreward,  break  o'er  a  reef  of  graves." 

The  song  of  the  mocking-bird  still  rang  from  the  downy 
cradle  of  myrtle  blossoms,  and  a  whip-poor-will  answered 
from  a  cedar  in  the  churchyard,  when  the  slamming  of  the 
parsonage  gate  startled  the  shy  thrush  that  slept  in  the  vines 
that  overarched  it,  and  Mr.  Leigh  came  slowly  up  the  walk, 
which  was  lined  with  purple  and  white  lilies  whose  loveli 
ness,  undiminished  by  the  wear  of  centuries,  still  rivaled  the 
glory  of  Solomon. 

As  he  ascended  the  steps  and  removed  his  hat,  the  pastor 
rose  and  placed  a  chair  for  him  near  his  own. 

"Good  evening,  Gordon.  Where  did  you  immure  your 
self  all  day?  I  expected  to  find  you  taking  part  in  the  chil 
dren's  festival,  and  hunted  for  you  in  the  crowd." 

"I  expected  to  attend,  but  this  morning  something  oc- 


ST.  ELMO.  l6l 

curred  which  unfitted  me  for  enjoyment  of  any  kind ;  con 
sequently  I  thought  it  best  to  keep  myself  and  my  moodi- 
ness  out  of  sight." 

"I  trust  nothing  serious  has  happened?" 

"Yes,  something  that  threatens  to  blast  all  my  hopes,  and 
make  my  life  one  great  disappointment.  Has  not  Edna  told 
you?" 

"She  has  told  me  nothing  relative  to  yourself,  but  I 
noticed  that  she  was  depressed  and  grieved  about  some 
thing.  She  was  abstracted  and  restless,  and  went  home  very 
early,  pleading  fatigue  and  headache/' 

"I  wish  I  had  a  shadow  of  hope  that  her  heart  ached  also ! 
Mr.  Hammond,  I  am  very  wretched,  and  have  come  to  you 
for  sympathy  and  counsel.  Of  course  you  have  seen  for  a 
long  time  that  I  loved  her  very  devotedly,  that  I  intended  if 
possible  to  make  her  my  wife.  Although  she  was  very  shy 
and  guarded,  and  never  gave  me  any  reason  to  believe  she 
returned  my  affection,  I  thought — I  hoped  she  would  not 
reject  me,  and  I  admired  her  even  more  because  of  her 
reticence,  for  I  could  not  value  a  love  which  I  knew  was 
mine  unasked.  To-day  I  mentioned  the  subject  to  her,  told 
her  how  entirely  my  heart  was  hers,  offered  her  my  hand 
and  fortune,  and  was  refused  most  decidedly.  Her  man 
ner  more  than  her  words  distressed  and  discouraged  me. 
She  showed  so  plainly  that  she  felt  only  friendship  for  me, 
and  entertained  only  regret  for  the  pain  she  gave  me.  She 
was  kind  and  delicate,  but  oh!  so  crushingly  positive!  I 
saw  that  I  had  no  more  place  in  her  heart  than  that  whip- 
poor-will  in  the  cedars  yonder.  And  yet  I  shall  not  give 
her  up;  while  I  live  I  will  cling  to  the  hope  that  I  may 
finally  win  her.  Thousands  of  women  have  rejected  a  man 
again  and  again  and  at  last  yielded  and  accepted  him;  and 
I  do  not  believe  Edna  can  withstand  the  devotion  of  a  life 
time." 

"Do  not  deceive  yourself,  Gordon.  It  is  true  many 
women  are  flattered  by  a  man's  perseverance,  their  vanity  is 
gratified.  They  first  reproach  themselves  for  the  suffering 
they  inflict,  then  gratitude  for  constancy  comes  to  plead  for 
the  inconsolable  suitor,  and  at  last  they  persuade  themselves 
that  such  devotion  can  not  fail  to  make  them  happy.  Such 
a  woman  Edna  is  not,  and  if  I  have  correctly  understood 


162  ST.  ELMO. 

her  character,  never  can  be.  I  sympathize  with  you,  Gor 
don,  and  it  is  because  I  love  you  so  sincerely  that  I  warn 
you  against  a  hope  destined  to  cheat  you." 

"But  she  admitted  that  she  loved  no  one  else,  and  I  can 
see  no  reason  why,  after  a  while,  she  may  not  give  me  her 
heart." 

"I  have  watched  her  for  years.  I  think  I  know  her  na 
ture  better  than  any  other  human  being,  and  I  tell  you, 
Edna  Earl  will  never  coax  and  persuade  herself  to  marry 
any  man,  no  matter  what  his  position  and  endowments  may 
be.  She  is  not  a  dependent  woman;  the  circumstances  of 
her  life  have  forced  her  to  dispense  with  companionship,  she 
is  sufficient  for  herself;  and  while  she  loves  her  friends 
warmly  and  tenderly,  she  feels  the  need  of  no  one.  If  she 
ever  marries,  it  will  not  be  from  gratitude  or  devotion,  but 
because  she  learned  to  love,  almost  against  her  will,  some 
strong,  vigorous  thinker,  some  man  whose  will  and 
intellect  masters  hers,  who  compels  her  heart's  homage, 
and  without  whose  society  she  can  not  persuade  herself  to 
live." 

"And  why  may  I  not  hope  that  such  will,  one  day,  be  my 
good  fortune?" 

For  a  few  minutes  Mr.  Hammond  was  silent,  walking  up 
and  down  the  wide  portico ;  and  when  he  resumed  his  seat, 
he  laid  his  hand  affectionately  on  the  young  man's  shoul 
der,  saying: 

"My  dear  Gordon,  your  happiness  as  well  as  hers  is  very 
dear  to  me.  I  love  you  both,  and  you  will,  you  must,  for 
give  me  if  what  I  am  about  to  say  should  wound  or  mortify 
you.  Knowing  you  both  as  I  do,  and  wishing  to  save  you 
future  disappointment,  I  should,  even  were  you  my  own 
son,  certainly  tell  you.  Gordon,  you  will  never  be  Edna's 
husband,  because  intellectually  she  is  your  superior.  She 
feels  this,  and  will  not  marry  one  to  whose  mind  her  own 
does  not  bow  in  reverence.  To  rule  the  man  she  married 
would  make  her  miserable,  and  she  could  only  find  happi 
ness  in  being  ruled  by  an  intellect  to  which  she  looked  up 
admiringly.  I  know  that  many  very  gifted  women  have 
married  their  inferiors,  but  Edna  is  peculiar,  and  in  some 
respects  totally  unlike  any  other  woman  whose  character  I 


ST.  ELMO.  163 

have  carefully  studied.  Gordon,  you  are  not  offended  with 
me?" 

Mr.  Leigh  put  out  his  hand,  grasped  that  of  his  compan 
ion,  and  his  voice  was  marked  by  unwonted  tremor  as  he 
answered : 

"You  pain  and  humiliate  me  beyond  expression,  but  I 
could  never  be  offended  at  words  which  I  am  obliged  to  feel 
are  dictated  by  genuine  affection.  Mr.  Hammond,  might 
not  years  of  thought  and  study  remove  the  obstacle  to  which 
you  allude  ?  Can  I  not  acquire  all  that  you  deem  requisite  ? 
I  would  dedicate  my  life  to  the  attainment  of  knowledge,  to 
the  improvement  of  my  faculties." 

"Erudition  would  not  satisfy  her.  Do  you  suppose  she 
could  wed  a  mere  walking  encyclopaedia?  She  is  naturally 
more  gifted  than  you  are,  and,  unfortunately  for  you,  she 
discovered  the  fact  when  you  were  studying  together." 

"But,  sir,  women  listen  to  the  promptings  of  heart  much 
oftener  than  to  the  cold,  stern  dictates  of  reason." 

"Very  true,  Gordon ;  but  her  heart  declares  against  you." 

"Do  you  know  any  one  whom  you  regard  as  fully  worthy 
of  her — any  one  who  will  probably  win  her?" 

"I  know  no  man  whose  noble,  generous  heart  renders  him 
so  worthy  of  her  as  yourself;  and  if  she  could  only  love 
you  as  you  deserve,  I  should  be  rejoiced ;  but  that  I  believe 
to  be  impossible." 

"Do  you  know  how  soon  she  expects  to  leave  Le  Bocage?" 

"Probably  about  the  close  of  the  year." 

"I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  her  as  going  among  stran 
gers — being  buffeted  by  the  world,  while  she  toils  to  earn  a 
maintenance.  It  is  inexpressibly  bitter  for  me  to  reflect, 
that  the  girl  whom  I  love  above  everything  upon  earth,  who 
would  preside  so  gracefully,  so  elegantly  over  my  home,  and 
make  my  life  so  proud  and  happy,  should  prefer  to  shut 
herself  up  in  a  school-room,  and  wear  out  her  life  in  teach 
ing  fretful,  spoiled,  trying  children  !  Oh,  Mr.  Hammond  ! 
can  you  not  prevail  upon  her  to  abandon  this  scheme? 
Think  what  a  complete  sacrifice  it  will  be." 

"If  she  feels  that  the  hand  of  duty  points  out  this  destiny 
as  hers,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  dissuade  her;  for  peace  of 
mind  and  heart  is  found  nowhere,  save  in  accordance  with 
the  dictates  of  conscience  and  judgment.  Since  Miss  Hard- 


1 64  ST.  ELMO. 

ing's  arrival  at  Le  Bocage,  I  fear  Edna  will  realize  rapidly 
that  she  is  no  longer  needed  as  a  companion  by  Mrs.  Mur 
ray,  and  her  proud  spirit  will  rebel  against  the  surveillance 
to  which  I  apprehend  she  is  already  subjected.  She  has 
always  expressed  a  desire  to  maintain  herself  by  teaching, 
but  I  suspect  that  she  will  do  so  by  her  pen.  When  she 
prepares  to  quit  Mrs.  Murray's  house  I  shall  offer  her  a 
home  in  mine ;  but  I  have  little  hope  that  she  will  accept  it, 
much  as  she  loves  me,  for  she  wants  to  see  something  of 
that  strange  mask  called  'life'  by  the  world.  She  wishes  to 
go  to  some  large  city,  where  she  can  command  advantages 
beyond  her  reach  in  this  quiet  little  place,  and  where  her 
own  exertions  will  pay  for  the  roof  that  covers  her.  How 
ever  we  may  deplore  this  decision,  certainly  we  can  not 
blame  her  for  the  feeling  that  prompts  it." 

"I  have  racked  my  brain  for  some  plan  by  which  I  could 
share  my  fortune  with  her  without  her  suspecting  the  donor ; 
for  if  she  rejects  my  hand,  I  know  she  would  not  accept 
one  cent  from  me.  Can  you  suggest  any  feasible  scheme  ?" 

Mr.  Hammond  shook  his  head,  and  after  some  reflection 
answered : 

"We  can  do  nothing  but  wait  and  watch  for  an  oppor 
tunity  of  aiding  her.  I  confess,  Gordon,  her  future  fills  me 
with  serious  apprehension;  she  is  so  proud,  so  sensitive,  so 
scrupulous,  and  yet  so  boundlessly  ambitious.  Should  her 
high  hopes,  her  fond  dreams  be  destined  to  the  sharp  and 
summary  defeat  which  frequently  overtakes  ambitious  men 
and  women  early  in  life,  I  shudder  for  her  closing  years  and 
the  almost  unendurable  bitterness  of  her  disappointed  soul." 

"Why  do  you  suppose  that  she  aspires  to  authorship?" 

"She  has  never  intimated  such  a  purpose  to  me ;  but  she 
can  not  be  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  she  possesses  great 
talent,  and  she  is  too  conscientious  to  bury  it." 

"Mr.  Hammond,  you  may  be  correct  in  your  predictions, 
but  I  trust  you  are  wrong;  and  I  can  not  believe  that  any 
woman  whose  heart  is  as  warm  and  noble  as  Edna's,  will 
continue  to  reject  such  love  as  I  shall  always  offer  her.  Of 
one  thing  I  feel  assured,  no  man  will  ever  love  her  as  well, 
or  better  than  I  do,  and  to  this  knowledge  she  will  awake 
some  day.  God  bless  her!  she  is  the  only  woman  I  shall 
ever  want  to  call  my  wife." 


ST.  ELMO.  165 

"I  sympathize  most  keenly  with  your  severe  disappoint 
ment,  my  dear  young  friend,  and  shall  earnestly  pray  that 
in  this  matter  God  will  overrule  all  things  for  your  hap 
piness  as  well  as  hers.  He  who  notes  the  death  of  spar 
rows,  and  numbers  even  the  hairs  of  our  heads,  will  not 
doom  your  noble,  tender  heart  to  life-long  loneliness  and 
hunger." 

With  a  long,  close  clasp  of  hands  they  parted.  Gordon 
Leigh  walked  sadly  between  the  royal  lily-rows,  hoping  that 
the  future  would  redeem  the  past;  and  the  old  man  sat 
alone  in  the  serene,  silent  night,  watching  the  shimmer  of 
the  moon  on  the  marble  that  covered  his  dead- 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"!T  is  impossible,  Estelle!  The  girl  is  not  a  fool,  and 
nothing  less  than  idiocy  can  explain  such  conduct !" 

Flushed  and  angry,  Mrs.  Murray  walked  up  and  down 
the  floor  of  the  sitting-room;  and  playing  with  the  jet 
bracelet  on  her  rounded  arm,  Miss  Harding  replied : 

"As  Mrs.  Inge  happens  to  be  his  sister,  I  presume  she 
speaks  ex  cathedra,  and  she  certainly  expressed  very  great 
delight  at  the  failure  of  Gordon  Leigh's  suit.  She  told  me 
that  he  was  much  depressed  in  consequence  of  Edna's  re 
jection,  and  manifested  more  feeling  than  she  had  deemed 
possible  under  the  circumstances.  Of  course  she  is  much 
gratified  that  her  family  is  saved  from  the  disgrace  of  such 
a  mesalliance!' 

"You  will  oblige  me  by  being  more  choice  in  the  selection 
of  your  words,  Estelle,  as  it  is  a  poor  compliment  to  me  to 
remark  that  any  man  would  be  disgraced  by  marrying  a  girl 
whom  I  have  raised  and  educated,  and  trained  as  carefully 
as  if  she  were  my  own  daugMer.  Barring  her  obscure  birth, 
Edna  is  as  worthy  of  3oraon  as  any  dainty  pet  of  fashion 
who  lounges  in  Clara  Inge's  parlors,  and  I  shall  take  occa 
sion  to  tell  her  so  if  ever  she  hints  at  'mesalliance'  in  my 
presence." 

"In  that  event  she  will  doubtless  retort  by  asking  you  in 
her  bland  and  thoroughly  well-bred  style,  whether  you  in 
tend  to  give  your  consent  to  Edna's  marriage  with  my 
cousin,  St.  Elmo?" 

Mrs.  Murray  stopped  suddenly,  and  confronting  her  niece, 
said  sternly: 

"What  do  you  mean,  Estelle  Harding?" 

"My  dear  aunt,  the  goodness  of  your  heart  has  strangely 
blinded  you  to  the  character  of  the  girl  you  have  taken  into 
your  house,  and  honored  with  your  confidence  and  affec 
tion.  Be  patient  with  me  while  I  unmask  this  shrewd  little 
intrigante.  She  is  poor  and  unknown,  and  if  she  leaves  your 

[166] 


ST.  ELMO.  167 

roof,  as  she  pretends  is  her  purpose,  she  must  work  for  her 
own  maintenance,  which  no  one  will  do  from  choice,  when 
an  alternative  of  luxurious  ease  is  within  reach.  Mr.  Leigh 
is  very  handsome,  very  agreeable,  wealthy  and  intelligent, 
and  is  considered  a  fine  match  for  any  girl;  yet  your  pro 
tegee  discards  him  most  positively,  alleging  as  a  reason  that 
she  does  not  love  him,  and  prefers  hard  labor  as  a  teacher 
to  securing  an  elegant  home  by  becoming  his  wife.  That 
she  can  decline  so  brilliant  an  offer  seems  to  you  incredible, 
but  I  knew  from  the  beginning  that  she  would  not  accept  it. 
My  dear  Aunt  Ellen,  she  aspires  to  the  honor  of  becoming 
your  daughter-in-law,  and  can  well  afford  to  refuse  Mr. 
Leigh's  hand,  when  she  hopes  to  be  mistress  of  Le  Bocage. 
She  is  pretty,  and  she  knows  it,  and  her  cunning  handling 
of  her  cards  would  really  amuse  and  interest  me,  if  I  were 
not  grieved  at  the  deception  she  is  practicing  upon  you.  It 
has,  I  confess,  greatly  surprised  me  that,  with  your  ex 
traordinary  astuteness  in  other  matters,  you  should  prove 
so  obtuse  concerning  the  machinations  which  the  girl  car 
ries  on  in  your  own  house.  Can  you  not  s  -  how  adroitly 
she  flatters  St.  Elmo  by  pouring  over  his  stupid  MSS.,  and 
professing  devotion  to  his  pet  authors?  Your  own  pene 
tration  will  show  you  how  unnatural  it  is  that  any  pretty 
young  girl  like  Edna  should  sympathize  so  intensely  with 
my  cousin's  outre  studies  and  tastes.  Before  I  had  been 
in  this  house  twenty- four  hours,  I  saw  the  game  she  plays 
so  skillfully,  and  only  wonder  that  you,  my  dear  aunt,  should 
be  victimized  by  the  cunning  of  one  on  whom  you  have 
lavished  so  much  kindness.  Look  at  the  facts.  She  cer 
tainly  has  refused  to  marry  Mr.  Leigh,  and  situated  as  she 
is,  how  can  you  explain  the  mystery  by  any  other  solution 
than  that  which  I  have  given,  and  which  I  assure  you  is 
patent  to  every  one  save  yourself?" 

Painful  surprise  kept  Mrs.  Murray  silent  for  some  mo 
ments,  and  at  last  shaking  her  head,  she  exclaimed: 

"I  do  not  believe  a  word  of  it!  I  know  her  much  better 
than  you  possibly  can,  and  so  far  from  wishing  to  marry 
my  son,  she  fears  and  dislikes  him  exceedingly.  Her  evi 
dent  aversion  to  him  has  even  caused  me  regret,  and  at 
times  they  scarcely  treat  each  other  with  ordinary  courtesy. 
She  systematically  avoids  him,  and  occasionally,  when  I 


168  ST.  ELMO. 

request  her  to  take  a  message  to  him,  I  have  been  amused 
at  the  expression  of  her  face,  and  her  manoeuvres  to  find  a 
substitute.  No !  no !  she  is  too  conscientious  to  wear  a 
mask.  You  must  tax  your  ingenuity  for  some  better  solu 
tion.'* 

"She  is  shrewd  enough  to  see  that  St.  Elmo  is  satiated 
with  flattery  and  homage ;  she  suspects  that  pique  alone  can 
force  an  entrance  into  the  citadel  of  his  heart,  and  her 
demonstrations  of  aversion  are  only  a  ruse  de  guerre.  My 
poor  aunt!  I  pity  the  disappointment  and  mortification  to 
which  you  are  destined,  when  you  discover  how  complete  is 
the  imposture  she  practices." 

"I  tell  you,  Estelle,  I  am  neither  blind  nor  exactly  in  my 
dotage,  and  that  girl  has  no  more  intention  of " 

The  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Murray  came  in.  Glancing 
round  the  room,  and  observing  the  sudden  silence — his 
mother's  flushed  cheeks  and  angry  eyes,  his  cousin's  lurk 
ing  smile,  he  threw  himself  on  the  sofa,  saying: 

"Tantane  animis  ccclestibus  irccf  Pray  what  dire  calam 
ity  has  raised  a  feud  between  you  two?  Has  the  French 
Count  grown  importunate,  and  does  my  mother  refuse  her 
consent  to  your  tardy  decision  to  follow  the  dictates  of 
your  long  outraged  conscience,  and  bestow  speedily  upon 
him  that  pretty  hand  of  yours,  which  has  so  often  been  sur 
rendered  to  his  tender  clasp?  If  my  intercession  in  behalf 
of  said  Victor  is  considered  worthy  of  acceptance,  pray 
command  me,  Estelle,  for  I  swear  I  never  keep  Runic  faith 
with  an  ally." 

"My  son,  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  your  eloquence 
might  be  more  successfully  and  agreeably  exercised  in  your 
own  behalf?" 

Mrs.  Murray  looked  keenly  at  her  niece  as  she  spoke : 

"My  profound  and  proverbial  humility  never  permitted 
the  ghost  of  such  a  suggestion  to  affright  my  soul !  Judg 
ing  from  the  confusion  which  greeted  my  entrance,  I  am 
forced  to  conclude  that  it  was  mal  apropos.  But  prudent 
regard  for  the  reputation  of  the  household  urged  me  to 
venture  near  enough  to  the  line  of  battle  to  inform  you  that 
the  noise  of  the  conflict  proclaims  it  to  the  servants,  and 
the  unmistakable  tones  arrested  my  attention  even  in  the 


ST.  ELMO.  169 

yard.  Family  feuds  become  really  respectable  if  only  waged 
sotto  voce." 

He  rose  as  if  to  leave  the  room,  but  his  mother  motioned 
him  to  remain. 

"I  am  very  much  annoyed  at  a  matter  which  surprises  me 
beyond  expression.  Do  you  know  that  Gordon  Leigh  has 
made  Edna  an  offer  of  marriage,  and  she  has  been  insane 
enough  to  refuse  him?  Was  ever  a  girl  so  stupidly  blind 
to  her  true  interest?  She  can  not  hope  to  make  half  so  bril 
liant  a  match,  for  he  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  promising 
young  men  in  the  State,  and  would  give  her  a  position  in 
the  wrorld  that  otherwise  she  can  never  attain." 

"Refused  him!  Refused  affluence,  fashionable  social 
status!  diamonds,  laces,  rose-curtained  boudoir,  and  hot 
houses!  Refused  the  glorious  privilege  of  calling  Mrs. 
Inge  'sister/  and  the  opportunity  of  snubbing  le  beau  monde 
who  persistently  snub  her.  Impossible!  You  are  growing 
old  and  oblivious  of  the  strategy  you  indulged  in  when 
throwing  your  toils  around  your  devoted  admirer,  whom  I, 
ultimately  had  the  honor  of  calling  my  father.  Your  pet 
vagrant,  Edna,  is  no  simpleton;  she  can  take  care  of  her 
own  interests,  and,  accept  my  word  for  it,  intends  to  do  so. 
She  is  only  practising  a  little  harmless  coquetry — toying 
with  her  victim,  as  fish  circle  round  and  round  the  bait  which 
they  fully  intend  to  swallow.  Were  she  Aphsea  herself,  I 
should  say  Gordon's  success  is  as  fixed  as  any  other  decree — 

'  In  the  chamber  of  Fate,  where,  through  tremulous  hands, 
Hum  the  threads  from  an  old-fashioned  distaff  uncurled, 
And  those  three  blind  old  women  sit  spinning  the  world !' 

Be  not  cast  down,  O  my  mother !  Your  protegee  is  a  true 
daughter  of  Eve,  and  she  eyes  Leigh's  fortune  as  hungrily 
as  the  aforesaid  venerable  mother  of  mankind  did  the  tempt 
ing  apple." 

"St.  Elmo,  it  is  neither  respectful  nor  courteous  to  be 
eternally  sneering  at  women  in  the  presence  of  your  own 
mother.  As  for  Edna,  I  am  intensely  provoked  at  her  de 
plorable  decision,  for  I  know  that  when  she  once  decides  on 
a  course  of  conduct  neither  persuasion  nor  argument  will 
move  her  one  iota.  She  is  incapable  of  the  contemptible 


170  ST.  ELMO. 

coquetry  you  imputed  to  her,  and  Gordon  may  as  well  look 
elsewhere  for  a  bride." 

"You  are  quite  right,  Aunt  Ellen;  her  refusal  was  most 
positive." 

"Did  she  inform  you  of  the  fact?"  asked  Mr.  Murray. 

"No,  but  Mr.  Leigh  told  his  sister  that  she  gave  hirn  no 
hope  whatever." 

"Then,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  have  succeeded  in 
slandering  human  nature!  which,  hitherto,  I  deemed  quite 
impossible.  Peccavi,  peccavi!  O  my  race!  And  she  abso 
lutely,  positively  declines  to  sell  herself?  I  am  unpleas 
antly  startled  in  my  pet  theories  concerning  the  cunning, 
lynx  selfishness  of  women,  by  this  feminine  phenomenon! 
Why,  I  would  have  bet  half  my  estate  on  Gordon's  chances ; 
for  his  handsome  face,  aided  by  such  incomparable  coad 
jutors  as  my  mother  here  and  the  infallible  sage  and  oracle 
of  the  parsonage  constituted  a  'triple  alliance'  more  formid 
able,  more  invincible,  than  those  that  threatened  Louis  XIV. 
or  Alberoni!  I  imagined  the  girl  was  clay  in  the  experi 
enced  hands  of  matrimonial  potters,  and  that  Hebrew 
strategy  would  prove  triumphant !  Accept,  my  dear  mother, 
my  most  heartfelt  sympathy  in  your  ignominious  defeat. 
You  will  not  doubt  the  sincerity  of  my  condolence  when  I 
confess  that  it  springs  from  the  mortifying  consciousness 
of  having  found  that  all  women  are  not  so  entirely  unscrup 
ulous  as  I  prefer  to  believe  them.  Permit  me  to  comfort 
you  with  the  assurance  that  the  campaign  has  been  con 
ducted  with  distinguished  ability  on  your  part.  You  have 
displayed  topographical  accuracy,  wariness,  and  an  insight 
into  the  character  of  your  antagonist,  which  entitle  you  to 
an  exalted  place  among  modern  tacticians;  and  you  have 
the  consolation  of  knowing  that  you  have  been  defeated 
most  unscientifically,  and  in  direct  opposition  to  every  well- 
established  maxim  and  rule  of  strategy,  by  this  rash,  in 
comprehensible,  feminine  Napoleon!  Believe  me " 

"Hush,  St.  Elmo !  I  don't  wish  to  hear  anything  more 
about  the  miserable  affair.  Edna  is  very  obstinate  and  ex 
ceedingly  ungrateful  after  all  the  interest  I  have  manifested 
in  her  welfare,  and  henceforth  I  shall  not  concern  myself 
about  her  future.  If  she  prefers  to  drudge  through  life  as 
a  teacher,  I  shall  certainly  advise  her  to  commence  as  soon 


ST.  ELMO.  171 

as  possible ;  for  if  she  can  so  entirely  dispense  with  my  coun 
sel,  she  no  longer  needs  my  protection." 

"Have  you  reasoned  with  her  concerning  this  singular 
obliquity  of  her  mental  vision?" 

"No.  She  knows  my  wishes,  and  since  she  defies  them,  I 
certainly  shall  not  condescend  to  open  my  lips  to  her  on  this 
subject." 

"Women  arrogate  such  marvellous  astuteness  in  reading 
each  other's  motives,  that  I  should  imagine  Estelle's  in 
genuity  would  furnish  an  open  sesame  to  the  locked  cham 
ber  of  this  girl's  heart,  and  supply  some  satisfactory  ex 
planation  of  her  incomprehensible  course." 

Mr.  Murray  took  his  cousin's  hand  and  drew  her  to  a  seat 
beside  him  on  the  sofa. 

"The  solution  is  very  easy,  my  dear  cynic.  Edna  can 
well  afford  to  decline  Gordon  Leigh's  offer  when  she  ex 
pects  and  manoeuvres  to  sell  herself  for  a  much  higher  sum 
than  he  can  command." 

As  Miss  Harding  uttered  these  words,  Mrs.  Murray 
turned  quickly  to  observe  their  effect. 

The  cousins  looked  steadily  at  each  other,  and  St.  Elmo 
laughed  bitterly,  and  patted  Estelle's  cheek,  saying: 

"Bravo  !  'Set  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief !'  I  knew  you  would 
hit  the  nail  on  the  head !  But  who  the  d — 1  is  this  fellow  who 
is  writing  to  her  from  New  York?  This  is  the  second  let 
ter  I  have  taken  out  of  the  office,  and  there  is  no  telling 
how  often  they  come;  for,  on  both  occasions,  when  I 
troubled  myself  to  ride  to  the  post-office,  I  have  found  let 
ters  directed  to  her  in  this  same  handwriting." 

He  drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  laid  it  on  his  kn-e, 
and  as  Estelle  looked  at  it,  and  then  glanced  with  a  puz 
zled  expression  toward  her  aunt's  equally  curious  face,  Mr. 
Murray  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes,  to  hide  their 
malicious  twinkle. 

"Give  me  the  letter,  St.  Elmo ;  it  is  my  duty  to  examine 
it;  for  as  long  as  she  is  under  my  protection  she  has  no 
right  to  carry  on  a  clandestine  correspondence  with  stran 
gers." 

"Pardon  me  if  I  presume  to  dispute  your  prerogative  to 
open  her  letters.  It  is  neither  your  business  nor  mine  to 
dictate  with  whom  she  shall  or  shall  not  correspond,  now 


172  ST.  ELMO. 

that  she  is  no  longer  a  child.  Doubtless  you  remember  that 
I  warned  you  against  her  from  the  first  day  I  ever  set  my 
eyes  upon  her,  and  predicted  that  you  would  repent  in  sack 
cloth  and  ashes  your  charitable  credulity?  I  swore  then 
she  would  prove  a  thief ;  you  vowed  she  was  a  saint !  But, 
nevertheless,  I  have  no  intention  of  turning  spy  at  this  late 
day,  and  assisting  you  in  the  eminently  honorable  work  of 
waylaying  letters  from  her  distant  swain." 

Very  coolly  he  put  the  letter  back  in  his  pocket. 

Mrs.  Murray  bit  her  lip,  and  held  out  her  hand,  saying 
peremptorily : 

"I  insist  upon  having  the  letter.  Since  you  are  so  spas 
modically  and  exceedingly  scrupulous,  I  will  carry  it  imme 
diately  to  her  and  demand  a  perusal  of  the  contents.  St. 
Elmo,  I  am  in  no  mood  for  jesting." 

He  only  shook  his  head,  and  laughed. 

"The  dictates  of  filial  respect  forbid  that  I  should  subject 
my  mother's  curiosity  to  so  severe  an  ordeal.  Moreover, 
were  the  letter  once  in  your  hands,  your  conscience  would 
persuade  you  that  it  is  your  imperative  duty  to  a  'poor,  in 
experienced,  motherless'  girl,  to  inspect  it  ere  her  eager 
fingers  have  seized  it.  Beside,  she  is  coming,  and  will  save 
you  the  trouble  of  seeking  her.  I  heard  her  run  up  the 
steps  a  moment  ago." 

Before  Mrs.  Murray  could  frame  her  indignation  in  suit 
able  words,  Edna  entered,  holding  in  one  hand  her  straw 
hat,  in  the  other  basket,  lined  with  grape  leaves,  and  filled 
with  remarkably  large  and  fine  strawberries.  Exercise  had 
deepened  the  color  in  her  fair,  sweet  face,  which  had  never 
looked  more  lovely  than  now,  as  she  approached  her  bene 
factress,  holding  up  the  fragrant,  tempting  fruit. 

"Mrs.  Murray,  here  is  a  present  from  Mr.  Hammond, 
who  desired*  me  to  tell  you  that  these  berries  are  the  first 
he  has  gathered  from  the  new  bed,  next  to  the  row  of  lilacs. 
It  is  the  variety  he  ordered  from  New  York  last  fall,  and 
some  roots  of  which  he  says  he  sent  to  you.  Are  they  not 
the  most  perfect  specimens  you  ever  saw?  We  measured 
them  at  the  parsonage  and  six  filled  a  saucer." 

She  was  selecting  a  cluster  to  hold  up  for  inspection,  and 
had  not  remarked  the  cloud  on  Mrs.  Murray's  brow. 


ST.  ELMO. 


173 


"The  strawberries  are  very  fine.  I  am  much  obliged  to 
Mr.  Hammond." 

The  severity  of  the  tone  astonished  Edna,  who  looked 
up  quickly,  saw  the  stern  displeasure  written  on  her  face, 
and  glanced  inquiringly  at  the  cousins.  There  was  an  awk 
ward  silence,  and  feeling  the  eyes  of  all  fixed  upon  her,  the 
orphan  picked  up  her  hat,  which  had  fallen  on  the  floor,  and 
asked : 

"Shall  I  carry  the  basket  to  the  dining-room,  or  leave  it 
here?" 

"You  need  not  trouble  yourself  to  carry  it  anywhere." 

Mrs.  Murray  laid  her  hand  on  the  bell-cord  and  rang 
sharply.  Edna  placed  the  fruit  on  the  centre-table,  and 
suspecting  that  she  must  be  de  trap,  moved  toward  the  door, 
but  Mr.  Murray  rose  and  stood  before  her. 

"Here  is  a  letter  which  arrived  yesterday." 

He  put  it  in  her  hand,  and  as  she  recognized  the  peculiar 
superscription,  a  look  of  delight  flashed  over  her  features, 
and  raising  her  beaming  eyes  to  his,  she  murmured,  "Thank 
you,  sir,"  and  retreated  to  her  own  room. 

Mr.  Murray  turned  to  his  mother  and  said  carelessly : 

"I  neglected  to  tell  you  that  I  heard  from  Clinton  to-day. 
He  has  invited  himself  to  spend  some  days  here,  and  wrote 
to  say  that  he  might  be  expected  next  week.  At  least  his 
visit  will  be  welcome  to  you,  Estelle,  and  I  congratulate  you 
on  the  prospect  of  adding  to  your  list  of  admirers  the  most 
fastidious  exquisite  it  has  ever  been  my  misfortune  to  en 
counter." 

"St.  Elmo,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  mention  your 
father's  nephew  in  such  terms.  You  certainly  have  less 
respect  and  affection  for  your  relatives  than  any  man  I  ever 
saw." 

"Which  fact  is  entirely  attributable  to  my  thorough  knowl 
edge  of  their  characters.  I  have  generally  found  that  high 
appreciation  and  intimate  acquaintance  are  in  inverse  ratios. 
As  for  Clinton  Allston,  were  he  my  father's  son,  instead  of 
his  nephew.  I  imagine  my  flattering  estimate  of  him  would 
be  substantially  the  same.  Estelle,  do  you  know  him?" 

"I  have  not  that  pleasure,  but  report  prepares  me  to  find 
him  extremely  agreeable.  I  am  rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of 
meeting  him.  Some  time  ago,  just  before  I  left  Paris,  I 


174 


ST.  ELMO. 


received  a  message  from  him,  challenging  me  to  a  flirtation 
at  sight  so  soon  as  an  opportunity  presented  itself." 

"For  your  sake,  Estelle,  I  am  glad  Clinton  is  coming,  for 
St.  Elmo  is  so  shamefully  selfish  and  oblivious  of  his  duties 
as  host,  that  I  know  time  often  hangs  very  heavily  on  your 
hands." 

Mrs.  Murray  was  too  thoroughly  out  of  humor  to  heed 
the  dangerous  sparkle  in  her  son's  eyes. 

"Very  true,  mother,  his  amiable  and  accommodating  dis 
position  commends  him  strongly  to  your  affection;  and 
knowing  what  is  expected  of  him,  he  will  politely  declare 
himself  her  most  devoted  lover  before  he  has  been  thirty- 
six  hours  in  her  society.  Now,  if  she  can  accept  him  for  a 
husband,  and  you  will  only  consent  to  receive  him  as  your 
son,  I  swear  I  will  reserve  a  mere  scanty  annuity  for  my 
traveling  expenses;  I  will  gladly  divide  the  estate  between 
them,  and  transport  myself  permanently  and  joyfully  be 
yond  the  animadversion  on  my  inherited  sweetness  of  tem 
per.  If  you,  my  dear  coz,  can  only  coax  Clinton  into  this 
arrangement  for  your  own  and  my  mother's  happiness,  you 
will  render  me  eternally  grateful,  and  smooth  the  way  for 
a  trip  to  Thibet  and  Siberia,  which  I  have  long  contem 
plated.  Bear  this  proposition  in  mind,  will  you,  especially 
when  the  charms  of  Le  Bocage  most  favorably  impress  you? 
Remember  you  will  become  its  mistress  the  day  that  you 
marry  Clinton,  make  my  mother  adopt  him,  and  release  me. 
If  my  terms  are  not  sufficiently  liberal,  confer  with  Clinton 
as  soon  as  maidenly  propriety  will  permit,  and  acquaint  me 
with  your  ultimatum ;  for  I  am  so  thoroughly  weary  and 
disgusted  with  this  place  that  I  am  anxious  to  get  away  on 
almost  any  terms.  Here  come  the  autocrats  of  the  neigh 
borhood,  the  nouveaux  enrichis!  your  friends  the  Montgom- 
eries  and  Hills,  than  whom  I  would  sooner  shake  hands 
with  the  Asiatic  plague !  I  hear  Madame  Montgomery  ask 
ing  if  I  am  not  at  home,  as  well  as  the  ladies !  Tell  her  I 
am  in  Spitzbergen  or  Mantchooria,  where  I  certainly  intend 
to  be  ere  long." 

As  the  visitors  approached  the  sitting-room,  he  sprang 
through  the  window  opening  on  the  terrace  and  disappeared. 

The  contents  of  the  unexpected  letter  surprised  and  de 
lighted  Edna  much  more  than  she  would  willingly  have 


ST.  ELMO.  175 

confessed.  Mr.  Manning  wrote  that  upon  the  eve  of  leav 
ing  home  for  a  tour  of  some  weeks'  travel,  he  chanced  to 
stumble  upon  her  letter,  and  in  a  second  perusal  some  pecu 
liarity  of  style  induced  him  to  reconsider  the  offer  it  con 
tained,  and  he  determined  to  permit  her  to  send  the  manu 
script  (as  far  as  written)  for  his  examination.  If  promptly 
forwarded  it  would  reach  him  before  he  left  home,  and 
expedite  an  answer. 

Drawing  all  happy  auguries  from  this  second  letter,  and 
trembling  with  pleasure,  Edna  hastened  to  prepare  her  man 
uscript  for  immediate  transmission.  Carefully  enveloping 
it  in  a  thick  paper,  she  sealed  and  directed  it,  then  fell  on 
her  knees,  and,  with  clasped  hands  resting  on  the  package, 
prayed  earnestly,  vehemently,  that  God's  blessing  would  ac 
company  it,  would  crown  her  efforts  with  success. 

Afraid  to  trust  it  to  the  hand  of  a  servant,  she  put  on 
her  hat  and  walked  back  to  town. 

The  express  agent  gave  her  a  receipt  for  the  parcel,  as 
sured  her  that  it  would  be  forwarded  by  the  evening  train, 
and  with  a  sigh  of  relief  she  turned  her  steps  homeward. 

Ah !  it  was  a  frail  paper  bark,  freighted  with  the  noblest, 
purest  aspirations  that  ever  possessed  a  woman's  soul, 
launched  upon  the  tempestuous  sea  of  popular  favor,  with 
ambition  at  the  helm,  hope  for  a  compass,  and  the  gaunt 
spectre  of  failure  grinning  in  the  shrouds.  Would  it  suc 
cessfully  weather  the  gales  of  malice,  envy  and  detraction? 
Would  it  battle  valiantly  and  triumphantly  with  the  piratical 
hordes  of  critics  who  prowl  hungrily  along  the  track  over 
which  it  must  sail?  Would  it  become  a  melancholy  wreck 
on  the  mighty  ocean  of  literature,  or  would  it  proudly  ride 
at  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  immortality,  with  her  name  float 
ing  for  ever  at  the  masthead? 

It  was  an  experiment  such  as  had  stranded  the  hopes  of 
hundreds  and  thousands ;  and  the  pinched,  starved  features 
of  Chatterton,  and  the  white,  pleading  face  of  Keats,  stabbed 
to  death  by  reviewers'  poisoned  pens,  rose  like  friendly 
phantoms  and  whispered  sepulchral  warnings. 

But  to-day  the  world  wore  only  rosy  garments,  unspotted 
by  shadows,  and  the  silvery  voice  of  youthful  enthusiasm 
sung  only  of  victory  and  spoils,  as  hope  gayly  struck  the 
cymbals  and  fingered  the  timbrels. 


176  ST.  ELMO. 

When  Edna  returned  to  her  room,  she  sat  down  before 
her  desk  to  reperuse  the  letter  which  had  given  her  so  much 
gratification ;  and,  as  she  refolded  it,  Mrs.  Murray  came  in 
and  closed  the  door  after  her. 

Her  face  was  stern  and  pale ;  she  walked  up  to  the  orphan, 
looked  at  her  suspiciously,  and  when  she  spoke  her  voice 
was  hard  and  cold. 

"I  wish  to  see  that  letter  which  you  received  to-day,  as  it 
is  very  improper  that  you  should,  without  my  knowledge, 
carry  on  a  correspondence  with  a  stranger.  I  would  not 
have  believed  that  you  could  be  guilty  of  such  conduct." 

"I  am  very  much  pained,  Mrs.  Murray,  that  you  should 
even  for  a  moment  have  supposed  that  I  had  forfeited  your 
confidence.  The  nature  of  the  correspondence  certainly 
sanctions  my  engaging  in  it,  even  without  consulting  you. 
This  letter  is  the  second  I  have  received  from  Mr.  Man 
ning,  the  editor  of  Magazine,  and  was  written  in 

answer  to  a  request  of  mine,  with  reference  to  a  literary 
matter  which  concerns  nobody  but  myself.  I  will  show  you 
the  signature;  there  it  is — Douglass  G.  Manning.  You 
know  his  literary  reputation  and  his  high  position.  If  you 
demand  it,  of  course,  I  can  not  refuse  to  allow  you  to  read 
it;  but,  dear  Mrs.  Murray,  I  hope  you  will  not  insist  upon 
it,  as  I  prefer  that  no  one  should  see  the  contents,  at  least 
at  present.  As  I  have  never  deceived  you,  I  think  you  might 
trust  me  when  I  assure  you  that  the  correspondence  is  en 
tirely  restricted  to  literary  subjects." 

"Why,  then,  should  you  object  to  my  reading  it?" 

"For  a  reason  which  I  will  explain  at  some  future  day, 
if  you  will  only  have  confidence  in  me.  Still,  if  you  are  de 
termined  to  examine  the  letter,  of  course  I  must  submit, 
though  it  would  distress  me  exceedingly  to  know  that  you 
can  not,  or  will  not,  trust  me  in  so  small  a  matter." 

She  laid  the  open  letter  on  the  desk  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

Mrs.  Murray  took  up  the  sheet,  glanced  at  the  signature, 
and  said: 

"Look  at  me;  don't  hide  your  face,  that  argues  some 
thing  wrong." 

Edna  raised  her  head,  and  lifted  her  eyes  full  of  tears  to 
meet  the  scrutiny  from  which  there  was  no  escape. 


ST.  ELMO.  177 

"Mr.  Manning's  signature  somewhat  reassures  me,  and 
beside,  I  never  knew  you  tc  prevaricate  or  attempt  to  de 
ceive  me.  Your  habitual  truthfulness  encourages  me  to 
believe  you,  and  I  will  not  insist  on  reading  this  letter, 
though  I  can  not  imagine  why  you  should  object  to  it.  But, 
Edna,  I  am  disappointed  in  you,  and  in  return  for  the  confi 
dence  I  have  always  reposed  in  you,  I  want  you  to  answer 
candidly  the  question  I  am  about  to  ask.  Why  did  you 
refuse  to  marry  Gordon  Leigh?" 

"Because  I  did  not  love  him." 

"Oh,  pooh !  that  seems  incredible,  for  he  is  handsome  and 
very  attractive,  and  some  young  ladies  show  very  plainly 
that  they  love  him,  though  they  have  never  been  requested 
to  do  so.  There  is  only  one  way  in  which  I  can  account 
for  your  refusal,  and  I  wish  you  to  tell  me  the  truth.  You 
are  unwilling  to  marry  Gordon  because  you  love  somebody 
else  better.  Child,  whom  do  you  love?" 

"No,  indeed,  no !  I  like  Mr.  Leigh  as  well  as  any  gentle 
man  I  know;  but  I  love  no  one  except  you  and  Mr.  Ham 
mond." 

Mrs.  Murray  put  her  hand  under  the  girl's  chin,  looked  at 
her  for  some  seconds,  and  sighed  heavily. 

"Child,  I  find  it  difficult  to  believe  you." 

"Why,  whom  do  you  suppose  I  could  love?  Mr.  Leigh  is 
certainly  more  agreeable  than  anybody  else  I  know." 

"But  girls  sometimes  take  strange  whims  in  these  mat 
ters.  Do  you  ever  expect  to  receive  a  better  offer  than  Mr. 
Leigh's?" 

"As  far  as  fortune  is  concerned,  I  presume  I  never  shall 
have  so  good  an  opportunity  again.  But,  Mrs.  Murray,  I 
would  rather  marry  a  poor  man,  whom  I  really  loved,  and 
who  had  to  earn  his  daily  bread,  than  to  be  Mr.  Leigh's 
wife  and  own  that  beautiful  house  he  is  building.  I  know 
you  wish  me  to  accept  him,  and  that  you  think  me  very  un 
wise,  very  short-sighted;  but  it  is  a  question  which  I  have 
settled  after  consulting  my  conscience  and  my  heart." 

"And  you  give  me  your  word  of  honor  that  you  love  no 
other  gentleman  better  than  Gordon  ?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Murray,  I  assure  you  that  I  do  not." 

As  the  mistress  of  the  house  looked  down  into  the  girl's 
beautiful  face,  and  passed  her  hand  tenderly  over  the  thick, 


178  ST.  ELMO. 

glossy  folds  of  hair  that  crowned  the  pure  brow,  she  won 
dered  if  it  were  possible  that  her  son  could  ever  regard  the 
orphan  with  affection;  and  she  asked  her  own  heart  why 
she  could  not  willingly  receive  her  as  a  daughter. 

Mrs.  Murray  believed  that  she  entertained  a  sincere 
friendship  for  Mrs.  Inge,  and  yet  she  had  earnestly  en 
deavored  to  marry  her  brother  to  a  girl  whom  she  could  not 
consent  to  see  the  wife  of  her  own  son.  Verily,  when  hu 
man  friendships  are  analyzed,  it  seems  a  mere  poetic  fiction 
that— 

"  Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life,  and  smote  on  all  the  chords  with 

might ; 

Smote  the  chord  of  Self,  that,  trembling,  passed  in  music  out  of 
sight." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ONE  afternoon,  about  ten  days  after  the  receipt  of  Mr. 
Manning's  letter,  when  Edna  returned  from  the  parsonage, 
she  found  the  family  assembled  on  the  front  veranda,  and 
saw  that  the  expected  visitor  had  arrived.  As  Mrs.  Mur 
ray  introduced  her  to  Mr.  Allston,  the  latter  rose,  advanced 
a  few  steps,  and  held  out  his  hand.  Edna  was  in  the  act  of 
giving  him  hers,  when  the  heart-shaped  diamond  cluster  on 
his  ringer  flashed,  and  one  swift  glance  at  his  face  and 
figure  made  her  snatch  away  her  hand  ere  it  touched  his, 
and  draw  back  with  a  half-smothered  exclamation. 

He  bit  his  lip,  looked  inquiringly  around  the  circle,  smiled, 
and  returning  to  his  seat  beside  Estelle,  resumed  the  gay 
conversation  in  which  he  had  been  engaged. 

Mrs.  Murray  was  leaning  over  the  iron  balustrade,  twin 
ing  a  wreath  of  multiflora  around  one  of  the  fluted  columns, 
and  did  not  witness  the  brief  pantomime;  but  when  she 
looked  around  she  could  not  avoid  remarking  the  unwonted 
pallor  and  troubled  expression  of  the  girl's  face. 

"What  is  the  matter,  child?  You  look  as  if  you  were 
either  ill  or  dreadfully  fatigued." 

"I  am  tired,  thank  you,"  was  the  rather  abstracted  reply, 
and  she  walked  into  the  house  and  sat  down  before  the  open 
window  in  the  library. 

The  sun  had  just  gone  down  behind  a  fleecy  cloud-moun 
tain  and  kindled  a  volcano,  from  whose  silver-rimmed  crater 
fiery  rays  of  scarlet  shot  up,  almost  to  the  clear  blue  zenith  ; 
while  here  and  there,  through  clefts  and  vapory  gorges,  the 
lurid  lava  light  streamed  down  toward  the  horizon. 

Vacantly  her  eyes  rested  on  this  sky-Hecla,  and  its  splen 
dor  passed  away  unheeded,  for  she  was  looking  far  beyond 
the  western  gates  of  day,  and  saw  a  pool  of  blood — a  ghastly 
face  turned  up  to  the  sky — a  coffined  corpse  strewn  with 
white  poppies  and  rosemary — a  wan,  dying  woman,  whose 

[179] 


i8o  ST.  ELMO. 

waving  hair  braided  the  pillow  with  gold — a  wide,  deep 
grave  under  the  rustling  chestnuts,  from  whose  green 
arches  rang  the  despairing  wail  of  a  broken  heart: 

"Oh,  Harry !  my  husband !" 

Imagination  travelling  into  the  past,  painted  two  sunny- 
haired,  prattling  babes,  suddenly  smitten  with  orphanage, 
and  robed  in  mourning  garments  for  parents  whose  fond, 
watchful  eyes  were  closed  forever  under  wild  clover  and 
trailing  brambles.  Absorbed  in  retrospection  of  that  June 
day,  when  she  stood  by  the  spring,  and  watched 

"  God  make  himself  an  awful  rose  of  dawn," 

she  sat  with  her  head  resting  against  the  window-facing, 
and  was  not  aware  of  Mr.  Murray's  entrance  until  his  harsh, 
querulous  voice  startled  her. 

"Edna  Earl!  what  apology  have  you  to  offer  for  insult 
ing  a  relative  and  guest  of  mine  under  my  roof?" 

"None,  sir." 

"What!  How  dare  you  treat  with  unparalleled  rudeness 
a  visitor,  whose  claim  upon  the  courtesy  and  hospitality  of 
this  household  is  certainly  more  legitimate  and  easily  recog 
nized  than  that  of " 

He  stopped  and  kicked  out  of  his  way  a  stool  upon  which 
Edna's  feet  had  been  resting.  She  had  risen,  and  they  stood 
face  to  face. 

"I  am  waiting  to  hear  the  remainder  of  your  sentence, 
Mr.  Murray." 

He  uttered  an  oath,  and  hurled  his  cigar  through  the 
window. 

"Why  the  d — 1  did  you  refuse  to  shake  hands  with  Alls- 
ton?  I  intend  to  know  the  truth,  and  it  may  prove  an 
economy  of  trouble  for  you  to  speak  it  at  once." 

"If  you  demand  my  reasons,  you  must  not  be  offended  at 
the  plainness  of  my  language.  Your  cousin  is  a  murderer, 
and  ought  to  be  hung!  I  could  not  force  myself  to  touch  a 
hand  all  smeared  with  blood." 

Mr.  Murray  leaned  down  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"You  are  either  delirious  or  utterly  mistaken  with  refer 
ence  to  the  identity  of  the  man.  Clinton  is  no  more  guilty 
of  murder  than  you  are,  and  I  have  been  led  to  suppose  that 
you  are  rather  too  'pious'  to  attempt  the  role  of  Marguerite 


ST.  ELMO. 

de  Brinvilliers  or  Joanna  of  Hainault !  Cufic  lore  has  turned 
your  brain ;  'too  much  learning  hath  made  thee  mad.' " 

"No,  sir,  it  is  no  hallucination;  there  can  be  no  mistake; 
it  is  a  horrible,  awful  fact,  which  I  witnessed,  which  is 
burned  on  my  memory,  and  which  will  haunt  my  brain  as 
long  as  I  live.  I  saw  him  shoot  Mr.  Dent,  and  heard  all 
that  passed  on  that  dreadful  morning.  He  is  doubly  crimi 
nal — is  as  much  the  murderer  of  Mrs.  Dent  as  of  her  hus 
band,  for  the  shock  killed  her.  Oh !  that  I  could  forget  her 
look  and  scream  of  agony  as  she  fainted  over  her  husband's 
coffin !" 

A  puzzled  expression  crossed  Mr.  Murray's  face ;  then  he 
muttered : 

"Dent?  Dent?  Ah!  yes;  that  was  the  name  of  the  man 
whom  Clinton  killed  in  a  duel.  Pshaw !  you  have  whipped 
up  a  syllabub  storm  in  a  tea-cup !  Allston  only  took  'satis 
faction'  for  an  insult  offered  publicly  by  Dent." 

His  tone  was  sneering  and  his  lip  curled,  but  a  strange 
pallor  crept  from  chin  to  temples ;  and  a  savage  glare  in  his 
eyes,  and  a  thickening  scowl  that  bent  his  brows  till  they 
met,  told  of  the  brewing  of  no  slight  tempest  of  passion. 

"I  know,  sir,  that  custom,  public  opinion,  sanctions — at 
least  tolerates  that  relic  of  barbarous  ages — that  blot  upon 
Christian  civilization  which,  under  the  name  of  'duelling,' 
I  recognize  as  a  crime,  a  heinous  crime,  which  I  abhor  and 
detest  above  all  other  crimes!  Sir,  I  call  things  by  their 
proper  names,  stripped  of  the  glozing  drapery  of  conven 
tional  usage.  You  say  'honorable  satisfaction' ;  I  say  mur 
der!  aggravated,  unpardonable  murder;  murder  without 
even  the  poor  palliation  of  the  sudden  heat  of  anger.  Cool, 
deliberate,  willful  murder,  that  stabs  the  happiness  of  wives 
and  children,  and  for  which  it  would  seem  that  even  the  in 
finite  mercy  of  Almighty  God  could  scarcely  accord  for 
giveness!  Oh!  save  me  from  the  presence  of  that  man  who 
can  derive  'satisfaction'  from  the  reflection  that  he  has  laid 
Henry  and  Helen  Dent  in  one  grave,  under  the  quiet  shadow 
of  Lookout,  and  brought  desolation  and  orphanage  to  their 
two  innocent,  tender  darlings!  Shake  hands  with  Clinton 
Allston?  I  would  sooner  stretch  out  my  fingers  to  clasp 
those  of  Gardiner,  reeking  with  the  blood  of  his  victims,  or 


182  ST.  ELMO. 

those  of  Ravaillac!  Ah!  well  might  Dante  shudder  in  paint 
ing  the  chilling  horrors  of  Ca'ina." 

The  room  was  dusky  with  the  shadow  of  coming  night; 
but  the  fading  flush,  low  in  the  west,  showed  St.  Elmo's 
face  colorless,  rigid,  repulsive  in  its  wrathful  defiance. 

He  bent  forward,  seized  her  hands,  folded  them  together, 
and  grasping  them  in  both  his,  crushed  them  against  his 
breast. 

"Ha !  I  knew  that  hell  and  heaven  were  leagued  to  poison 
your  mind!  That  your  childish  conscience  was  frightened 
by  tales  of  horror,  and  your  imagination  harrowed  up,  your 
heart  lacerated  by  the  cunning  devices  of  that  arch  maudlin 
old  hypocrite!  The  seeds  of  clerical  hate  fell  in  good 
ground,  and  I  see  a  bountiful  harvest  nodding  for  my  sickle ! 
Oh!  you  are  more  pliable  than  I  had  fancied!  You  have 
been  thoroughly  trained  down  yonder  at  the  parsonage. 
But  I  will  be " 

There  was  a  trembling  pant  in  his  voice  like  that  of  some 
wild  creature  driven  from  its  jungle,  hopeless  of  escape, 
holding  its  hunters  temporarily  at  bay,  waiting  for  death. 

The  girl's  hand  ached  in  his  unyielding  grasp  and  after 
two  ineffectual  efforts  to  free  them,  a  sigh  of  pain  passed  her 
lips  and  she  said  proudly : 

"No,  sir;  my  detestation  of  that  form  of  legalized  mur 
der,  politely  called  'duelling,'  was  not  taught  me  at  the  par 
sonage.  I  learned  it  in  my  early  childhood,  before  I  ever 
saw  Mr.  Hammond ;  and  though  I  doubt  not  he  agrees  with 
me  in  my  abhorrence  of  the  custom,  I  have  never  heard  him 
mention  the  subject." 

"Hypocrite !  hypocrite !  Meek  little  wolf  in  lamb's  wool ! 
Do  you  dream  that  you  can  deceive  me?  Do  you  think  me 
an  idiot,  to  be  cajoled  by  your  low-spoken  denials  of  a  fact 
which  I  know?  A  fact,  to  the  truth  of  which  I  will  swear 
till  every  star  falls!" 

"Mr.  Murray,  I  never  deceived  you,  and  I  know  that  how 
ever  incensed  you  may  be,  however  harsh  and  unjust,  I 
know  that  in  your  heart  you  do  not  doubt  my  truthfulness. 
Why  you  invariably  denounce  Mr.  Hammond  when  you 
happen  to  be  displeased  with  me,  I  can  not  conjecture;  but 
I  tell  you  solemnly  that  he  has  never  even  indirectly  alluded 
to  the  question  of  'duelling'  since  I  have  known  him.  Mr. 


ST.  ELMO.  183 

Murray,  I  know  you  do  entirely  believe  me  when  I  utter 
these  words." 

A  tinge  of  red  leaped  into  his  cheek,  something-  that 
would  have  been  called  hope  in  any  other  man's  eyes  looked 
out  shyly  under  his  heavy  black  lashes,  and  a  tremor  shook 
off  the  sneering  curl  of  his  bloodless  lips. 

Drawing  her  so  close  to  him  that  his  hair  touched  her 
forehead,  he  whispered: 

"If  I  believe  in  you,  my — it  is  in  defiance  of  judgment, 
will,  and  experience,  and  some  day  you  will  make  me  pay 
a  most  humiliating  penalty  for  my  momentary  weakness. 
To-night  I  trust  you  as  implicitly  as  Samson  did  the  smooth- 
lipped  Delilah;  to-morrow  I  shall  realize  that,  like  him,  I 
richly  deserve  to  be  shorn  for  my  silly  credulity." 

He  threw  her  hands  rudely  from  him,  turned  hastily  and 
left  the  library. 

Enda  sat  down  and  covered  her  face  with  her  bruised 
and  benumbed  fingers,  but  she  could  not  shut  out  the  sight 
of  something  that  astonished  and  frightened  her — of  some 
thing  that  made  her  shudder  from  head  to  foot,  and  crouch 
down  in  her  chair  cowed  and  humiliated.  Hitherto  she  had 
fancied  that  she  thoroughly  understood  and  sternly  gov 
erned  her  heart — that  conscience  and  reason  ruled  it;  but 
within  the  past  hour  it  had  suddenly  risen  in  dangerous  re 
bellion,  thrown  off  its  allegiance  to  all  things  else,  and  in 
solently  proclaimed  St.  Elmo  Murray  its  king.  She  could 
not  analyze  her  new  feelings,  they  would  not  obey  the  sum 
mons  to  the  tribunal  of  her  outraged  self-respect;  and  with 
bitter  shame  and  reproach  and  abject  contrition,  she  realized 
that  she  had  begun  to  love  the  sinful,  blasphemous  man  who 
had  insulted  her  revered  grandfather,  and  who  barely  tol 
erated  her  presence  in  his  house. 

This  danger  had  never  once  occurred  to  her,  for  she  had 
always  believed  that  love  could  only  exist  where  high  esteem 
and  unbounded  reverence  prepared  the  soil;  and  she  was 
well  aware  that  this  man's  character  had  from  the  first  hour 
of  their  acquaintance  excited  her  aversion  and  dread.  Ten 
days  before  she  had  positively  disliked  and  feared  him; 
now,  to  her  amazement,  she  found  him  throned  in  her  heart, 
defying  ejection.  The  sudden  revulsion  bewildered  and 
mortified  her,  and  she  resolved  to  crush  out  the  feeling  at 


184  ST.  ELMO. 

once,  cost  what  it  might.  When  Mr.  Murray  had  asked  if 
she  loved  any  one  else  better  than  Mr.  Leigh,  she  thought, 
nay  she  knew,  she  answered  truly  in  the  negative.  But  now, 
when  she  attempted  to  compare  the  two  men,  such  a  strange, 
yearning  tenderness  pleaded  for  St.  Elmo,  and  palliated  his 
grave  faults,  that  the  girl's  self-accusing  severity  wrung  a 
groan  from  the  very  depths  of  her  soul. 

When  the  sad  discovery  was  first  made,  conscience  lifted 
its  hands  in  horror,  because  of  the  man's  reckless  wicked 
ness  ;  but  after  a  little  while  a  still  louder  clamor  was  raised 
by  womanly  pride,  which  bled  at  the  thought  of  tolerating 
a  love  unsought,  unvalued;  and  with  this  fierce  rush  of  re 
inforcements  to  aid  conscience,  the  insurgent  heart  seemed 
destined  to  summary  subjugation.  Until  this  hour,  although 
conscious  of  many  faults,  she  had  not  supposed  that  there 
was  anything  especially  contemptible  in  her  character;  but 
now  the  feeling  of  self-abasement  was  unutterably  galling. 
She  despised  herself  most  cordially,  and  the  consistent  dig 
nity  of  life  which  she  had  striven  to  attain  appeared  hope 
lessly  shattered. 

While  the  battle  of  reason  versus  love  was  at  its  height, 
Mrs.  Murray  put  her  head  in  the  room  and  asked :  "Edna ! 
Where  are  you,  Edna?" 

"Here  I  am." 

"Why  are  you  sitting  in  the  dark?  I  have  searched  the 
house  for  you." 

She  groped  her  way  across  the  room,  lighted  the  gas,  and 
came  to  the  window. 

"What  is  the  matter,  child?    Are  you  sick?" 

"I  think  something  must  be  the  matter,  for  I  do  not  feel 
at  all  like  myself,"  stammered  the  orphan,  as  she  hid  her 
face  on  the  window-sill. 

"Does  your  head  ache?" 

"No,  ma'am." 

She  might  have  said  very  truly  that  her  heart  did. 

"Give  me  your  hand,  let  me  feel  your  pulse.  It  is  very 
quick,  but  shows  nervous  excitement  rather  than  fever. 
Child,  let  me  see  your  tongue,  I  hear  there  are  some  typhoid 
cases  in  the  neighborhood.  Why,  how  hot  your  cheeks 
are!" 


ST.  ELMO.  185 

"Yes,  I  shall  go  up  and  bathe  them,  and  perhaps  I  may 
feel  better." 

"I  wish  you  would  come  into  the  parlor  as  soon  as  you 
can,  for  Estelle  says  Clinton  thought  you  were  very  rude 
to  him;  and  though  I  apologized  on  the  score  of  indisposi 
tion,  I  prefer  that  you  should  make  your  appearance  this 
evening.  Stop,  you  have  dropped  your  handkerchief." 

Edna  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  saw  Mr.  Murray's  name 
printed  in  one  corner,  and  her  first  impulse  was  to  thrust 
it  into  her  pocket;  but  instantly  she  held  it  towards  hi« 
mother. 

"It  is  not  mine,  but  your  son's.  He  was  here  about  an 
hour  ago  and  must  have  dropped  it." 

"I  thought  he  had  gone  out  over  the  grounds  with  Clin 
ton.  What  brought  him  here?" 

"He  came  to  scold  me  for  not  shaking  hands  with  his 
cousin." 

"Indeed !  you  must  have  been  singularly  rude  if  he  no 
ticed  any  want  of  courtesy.  Change  your  dress  and  come 
down." 

It  was  in  vain  that  Edna  bathed  her  hot  face  and  pressed 
her  cold  hands  to  her  cheeks.  She  felt  as  if  all  curious  eyes 
read  her  troubled  heart.  She  was  ashamed  to  meet  the 
family — above  all  things  to  see  Mr.  Murray.  Heretofore 
she  had  shunned  him  from  dislike ;  now  she  wished  to  avoid 
him  because  she  began  to  feel  that  she  loved  him,  and  be 
cause  she  dreaded  that  his  inquisitorial  eyes  would  discover 
the  contemptible,  and,  in  her  estimation,  unwomanly  weak 
ness. 

Taking  the  basket  which  contained  her  sewing  utensils 
and  a  piece  of  light  needlework,  she  went  into  the  parlor  and 
seated  herself  near  the  centre-table,  over  which  hung  the 
chandelier. 

Mr.  Murray  and  his  mother  were  sitting  on  a  sofa,  the 
former  engaged  in  cutting  the  leaves  of  a  new  book,  and 
Estelle  Harding  was  describing  in  glowing  terms  a  scene  in 
"Phedre,"  which  owed  its  charm  to  Rachel's  marvelous  act 
ing.  As  she  repeated  the  soliloquy  beginning : 

"  O  toi,  qui  vois  la  honte  ou  je  suis  descendue, 
Implacable  Venus,  suis-je  assez  confondue!" 


186  ST.  ELMO. 

Edna  felt  as  if  her  own  great  weakness  were  known  to  the 
world,  and  she  bent  her  face  close  to  her  basket  and  tum 
bled  the  contents  into  inextricable  confusion. 

To-night  Estelle  seemed  in  unusually  fine  spirits,  and 
talked  on  rapidly,  till  St.  Elmo  suddenly  appeared  to  be 
come  aware  of  the  import  of  her  words,  and  in  a  few  tren 
chant  sentences  he  refuted  the  criticism  on  Phedre,  advising 
his  cousin  to  confine  her  comments  to  dramas  with  which 
she  was  better  acquainted. 

His  tone  and  manner  surprised  Mr.  Allston,  who  re 
marked  : 

"Were  I  Czar,  I  would  issue  a  ukase,  chaining  you  to  the 
steepest  rock  on  the  crest  of  the  Ural,  till  you  learned  the 
courtesy  due  to  lady  disputants.  Upon  my  word,  St.  Elmo, 
you  assault  Miss  Estelle  with  as  much  elan  as  if  you  were 
carrying  a  redoubt.  One  would  suppose  that  you  had  been 
in  good  society  long  enough  to  discover  that  the  fortiter  in 
re  style  is  not  allowable  in  discussions  with  ladies." 

"When  women  put  on  boxing-gloves  and  show  their  faces 
in  the  ring,  they  challenge  rough  handling,  and  are  rarely 
disappointed.  I  am  sick  of  sciolism,  especially  that  phase 
where  it  crops  out  in  shallow  criticism,  and  every  day  some 
thing  recalls  the  reprimand  of  Apelles  to  the  shoemaker. 
If  a  worthy  and  able  literary  tribunal  and  critical  code  could 
be  established,  it  would  be  well  to  revive  an  ancient  Locrian 
custom,  which  required  that  the  originators  of  new  laws  or 
propositions  should  be  brought  before  the  assembled  wis 
dom,  with  halters  around  their  necks,  ready  for  speedy  exe 
cution  if  the  innovation  proved,  on  examination,  to  be  utterly 
unsound  or  puerile.  Ah!  what  a  wholesale  hanging  of 
socialists  would  gladden  my  eyes !" 

Mr.  Murray  bowed  to  his  cousin  as  he  spoke,  and  rising, 
took  his  favorite  position  on  the  rug. 

"Really,  Aunt  Ellen,  I  would  advise  you  to  have  him  re- 
christened,  under  the  name  of  Timon,"  said  Mr.  Allston. 

"No,  no.  I  decidedly  object  to  any  such  gratification  of 
his  would-be  classic  freaks;  and,  as  he  is  evidently  aping 
Timon,  though,  unfortunately,  nature  denied  him  the  Attic 
salt  requisite  to  flavor  the  character,  I  would  suggest,  as  a 
more  suitable  sobriquet,  that  bestowed  on  Louis  X.,  'Le 


ST.  ELMO.  187 

Hutin' — freely  translated,  The  Quarrelsome!'  What  say 
you,  St.  Elmo?" 

Estelle  walked  up  to  her  cousin  and  stood  at  his  side. 

"That  is  very  bad  policy  to  borrow  one's  boxing-gloves; 
and  I  happened  to  overhear  Edna  Earl  when  she  made  that 
same  suggestion  to  Gordon  Leigh,  with  reference  to  my 
amiable  temperament.  However,  there  is  a  maxim  which 
will  cover  your  retreat,  and  which  you  can  conscientiously 
utter  with  much  emphasis,  if  your  memory  is  only  good  in 
repeating  all  the  things  you  may  have  heard:  Pereant  qui 
ante  nos  nostra  dixerunt!  Shall  I  translate?" 

She  laughed  lightly  and  answered: 

"So  much  for  eavesdropping!  Of  all  the  gentlemen  of 
my  acquaintance,  I  should  fancy  you  were  the  very  last  who 
could  afford  to  indulge  in  that  amusement." 

"Miss  Estelle,  is  this  your  first,  second  or  third  Punic 
war?  You  and  St.  Elmo,  or  rather,  my  cousin,  'The  Quar 
relsome,'  seem  to  wage  it  in  genuine  Carthaginian  style." 

"I  never  signed  a  treaty,  sir,  and,  consequently,  keep  no 
records." 

"Clinton,  there  is  a  chronic  casus  belli  between  us,  the 
original  spring  of  which  antedates  my  memory.  But  at 
present,  Estelle  is  directing  all  her  genius  and  energy  to 
effect,  for  my  individual  benefit,  a  practical  reenactment  of 
the  old  Papia  Poppaa,  which  Augustus  hurled  at  the  heads 
of  all  peaceful,  happy  bachelordom !" 

For  the  first  time  during  the  conversation  Edna  glanced 
up  at  Estelle,  for,  much  as  she  disliked  her,  she  regretted 
this  thrust;  but  her  pity  was  utterly  wasted,  and  she  was 
surprised  to  find  her  countenance  calm  and  smiling. 

Mr.  Allston  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  Mrs.  Murray 
exclaimed : 

"I  sound  a  truce !  For  heaven's  sake,  St.  Elmo,  lock  up 
your  learning  with  your  mummies,  and  when  you  will  say 
barbarous  things,  use  language  that  will  enable  us  to  under 
stand  that  we  are  being  snubbed.  Now,  who  do  you  sup 
pose  comprehends  Tapia  Poppaea?'  You  are  insufferably 
pedantic !" 

"My  dear  mother,  do  you  remember  ever  to  have  read 
or  heard  the  celebrated  reply  of  a  certain  urbane  lexicog 
rapher  to  the  rashly  ambitious  individual  who  attempted 


1 88  ST.  ELMO. 

to  find  fault  with  his  dictionary?  Permit  me,  most  re 
spectfully,  to  offer  it  for  your  consideration.  'I  am  bound 
to  furnish  good  definitions,  but  not  brains  to  comprehend 
them.'  " 

"I  think,  sir,  that  it  is  a  very  great  misfortune  for  those 
who  have  to  associate  with  you  now  that  you  were  not 
raised  in  Sparta,  where  it  was  everybody's  privilege  to  whip 
their  neighbor's  vicious,  spoiled  children.  Such  a  regimen 
would  doubtless  have  converted  you  into  an  amiable,  or  at 
least  endurable  member  of  society." 

Miss  Harding  tapped  his  hand  with  her  fan. 

"That  is  problematical,  my  fair  cousin,  for  if  my  provoca 
tive  playmate  had  accompanied  me,  I'll  be  sworn  but  I  think 
the  supply  of  Spartan  birch  would  have  utterly  failed  to 
sweeten  my  temper.  I  should  have  shared  the  fate  of  those 
unfortunate  boys  who  were  whipped  to  death  in  Lacedaemon, 
in  honor  of  Diana;  said  whipping- festival  (I  here  remark 
parenthetically,  for  my  mother's  enjoyment)  being  known 
in  classic  parlance  as  Diamastigosis!" 

Her  mother  answered  laughingly: 

"Estelle  is  quite  right;  you  contrived  to  grow  up  without 
the  necessary  healthful  quota  of  sound  whipping  which  you 
richly  deserved." 

Mr.  Murray  did  not  seem  to  hear  her  words ;  he  was 
looking  down  intently,  smiling  into  his  cousin's  handsome 
face,  and,  passing  his  arm  around  her  waist,  drew  her  close 
to  his  side.  He  murmured  something  that  made  her  throw 
her  head  quickly  back  against  his  shoulder  and  look  up  at 
him. 

"If  such  is  the  end  of  all  your  quarrels,  it  offers  a  pre 
mium  for  unamiability,"  said  Mr.  Allston,  who  had  been 
studying  Edna's  face,  and  now  turned  again  to  his  cousin. 
Curling  the  end  of  his  moustache,  he  continued: 

"St.  Elmo,  you  have  travelled  more  extensively  than  any 
one  I  know,  and  under  peculiarly  favorable  circumstances. 
Of  all  the  spots  you  have  visited,  which  would  you  pro 
nounce  the  most  desirable  for  a  permanent  residence?" 

"Have  you  an  idea  of  expatriating  yourself — of  'quitting 
your  country  for  your  country's  good'?" 

"One  never  knows  what  contingencies  may  arise,  and  I 
should  like  to  avail  myself  of  your  knowledge;  for  I  feel 


ST.  ELMO.  189 

assured  only  very  charming  places  would  have  detained  you 
long." 

"Then,  were  I  at  liberty  to  select  a  home,  tranquil,  blessed 
beyond  all  expression,  I  should  certainly  lose  no  time  in 
domesticating  myself  in  the  Peninsula  of  Mount  Athos." 

"Ah !  yes ;  the  scenery  all  along  that  coast  is  described  as 
surprisingly  beautiful  ana  picturesque." 

"Oh,  bah!  the  scenery  is  quite  as  grand  in  fifty  other 
places.  Its  peculiar  attraction  consists  in  something  far 
more  precious." 

"To  what  do  you  refer?" 

"Its  marvelous  and  bewildering  charm  is  to  be  found 
entirely  in  the  fact  that,  since  the  days  of  Constantine,  no 
woman  has  set  foot  on  its  peaceful  soil ;  and  the  happy 
dwellers  in  that  sole  remaining  earthly  Eden  are  so  vigilant, 
dreading  the  entrance  of  another  Eve,  that  no  female  animal 
is  permitted  to  intrude  upon  the  sacred  precincts.  The 
embargo  extends  even  to  cats,  cows,  dogs,  lest  the  innate 
female  proclivity  to  make  mischief  should  be  found  danger 
ous  in  the  brute  creation.  Constantine  lived  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  third  and  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  century. 
Think  of  the  divine  repose,  the  unapproachable  beatification 
of  residing  in  a  land  where  no  woman  has  even  peeped  for 
fifteen  hundred  years!" 

"May  all  good  angels  help  me  to  steer  as  far  as  possible 
from  such  a  nest  of  cynics!  I  would  sooner  confront  an 
army  of  Amazons  headed  by  Penthesilea  herself,  than  trust 
myself  among  a  people  unhumanized  and  uncivilized  by  the 
refining  influence  and  companionship  of  women !  St.  Elmo, 
you  are  the  most  abominable  misogamist  I  ever  met,  and 
you  deserve  to  fall  into  the  clutches  of  those  'eight  mighty 
daughters  of  the  plow,'  to  which  Tennyson's  Princess  con 
signed  the  Prince.  Most  heartily  I  pity  you !" 

"For  shame,  St.  Elmo !  A  stranger  listening  to  your  gal 
lant  diatribe  would  inevitably  conclude  that  your  mother 
was  as  unnatural  and  unamiable  as  Lord  Byron's ;  and  that 
I,  your  most  devoted,  meek,  and  loving  cousin,  was  quite 
as  angelic  as  Miss  Edgeworth's  Modern  Griselda!" 

Affecting  great  indignation,  Estelle  attempted  to  quit  his 
side;  but,  tightening  his  arm,  Mr.  Murray  bowed  and  re 
sumed  : 


190  ST.  ELMO. 

"Had  your  imaginary  stranger  ever  heard  of  the  science 
of  logic,  or  even  dreamed  of  Whately  or  Mill,  the  conclusion 
would,  as  you  say,  be  inevitable.  More  fortunate  than  Ras- 
selas,  I  found  a  happy  spot  where  the  names  of  women  are 
never  called,  where  the  myths  of  Ate  and  Pandora  are  for 
gotten,  and  where  the  only  females  that  have  successfully 
run  the  rigid  blockade  are  the  tormenting  fleas,  that  wage 
a  ceaseless  war  with  the  unoffending  men,  and  justify  their 
nervous  horror  lest  any  other  creature  of  the  same  sex 
should  smuggle  herself  into  their  blissful  retreat.  I  have 
seen  crowned  heads,  statesmen,  great  military  chieftains,  and 
geniuses,  whose  names  are  destined  to  immortality ;  but 
standing  here,  reviewing  my  certainly  extended  acquaint 
ance,  I  swear  I  envy  above  all  others  that  handsome  monk 
whom  Curzon  found  at  Simopetra,  who  had  never  seen  a 
woman !  He  was  transplanted  to  the  Holy  Mountain  while 
a  mere  infant,  and  though  assured  he  had  had  a  mother,  he 
accepted  the  statement  with  the  same  blind  faith,  which  was 
required  for  some  of  the  religious  dogmas  he  was  called  on 
to  swallow.  I  have  frequently  wondered  whether  the  ghost 
of  poor  Socrates  would  not  be  allowed,  in  consideration  of 
his  past  sufferings  and  trials,  to  wander  forever  in  that 
peaceful  realm  where  even  female  ghosts  are  tabooed." 

"There  is  some  terrible  retribution  in  store  for  your  libels 
on  our  sex !  How  I  do  long  to  meet  some  woman  brave  and 
wily  enough  to  marry  and  tame  you,  my  chivalric  cousin! 
to  revenge  the  insults  you  have  heaped  upon  her  sister 
hood!" 

"By  fully  establishing  the  correctness  of  my  estimate  of 
their  amiability?  That  were  dire  punishment  indeed  for 
what  you  deem  my  heresies.  If  I  could  realize  the  possi 
bility  of  such  a  calamity,  I  should  certainly  bewail  my  fate 
in  the  mournful  words  of  that  most  astute  of  female  wits, 
who  is  reported  to  have  exclaimed,  in  considering  the  an 
gelic  idiosyncrasies  of  her  gentle  sisterhood,  'The  only 
thought  which  can  reconcile  me  to  being  a  woman  is  that 
I  shall  not  have  to  marry  one." 

The  expression  with  which  Mr.  Murray  regarded  Estelle 
reminded  Edna  of  the  account  given  by  a  traveller  of  the 
playful  mood  of  a  lion,  who,  having  devoured  one  gazelle, 


ST.  ELMO. 


191 


kept  his  paw  on  another,  and,  amid  occasional  growls,  teased 
and  toyed  with  his  victim. 

As  the  orphan  sat  bending  over  her  work  listening  to  the 
conversation,  she  asked  herself  scornfully: 

"What  hallucination  has  seized  me  ?  The  man  is  a  mock 
ing  devil,  unworthy  the  respect  or  toleration  of  any  Chris 
tian  woman.  What  redeeming  trait  can  even  my  partial 
eyes  discover  in  his  distorted,  sinful  nature?  Not  one.  No, 
not  one!" 

She  was  rejoiced  when  he  uttered  a  sarcasm  or  an  opinion 
that  shocked  her,  for  she  hoped  that  his  irony  would  cauter 
ize  what  she  considered  a  cancerous  spot  in  her  heart. 

"Edna,  as  you  are  not  well,  I  advise  you  to  put  aside  that 
embroidery,  which  must  try  your  eyes  very  severely,"  said 
Mrs.  Murray. 

So  she  folded  up  the  piece  of  cambric  and  was  putting  it 
in  her  basket,  when  Mr.  Allston  asked,  with  more  effrontery 
than  the  orphan  was  prepared  for : 

"Miss  Earl,  have  I  not  seen  you  before  to-day?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"May  I  ask  where?" 

"In  a  chestnut  grove,  where  you  shot  Mr.  Dent/' 

"Indeed!  Did  you  witness  that  affair?  It  happened 
many  years  ago." 

There  was  not  a  shadow  of  pain  or  sorrow  in  his  coun 
tenance  or  tone,  and,  rising,  Edna  said,  with  unmistakable 
emphasis : 

"I  saw  all  that  occurred,  and  may  God  preserve  me  from 
ever  witnessing  another  murder  so  revolting!" 

In  the  silence  that  ensued  she  turned  toward  Mrs.  Murray, 
bowed,  and  said  as  she  quitted  the  parlor: 

"Mrs.  Murray,  as  I  am  not  very  well,  you  will  please 
excuse  my  retiring  early." 

"Just  what  you  deserve  for  bringing  the  subject  on  tapis; 
I  warned  you  not  to  allude  to  it."  As  St.  Elmo  muttered 
these  words,  he  pushed  Estelle  from  him,  and  nodded  to 
Mr.  Allston,  who  seemed  as  nearly  nonplussed  as  his 
habitual  impudence  rendered  possible. 

Thoroughly  dissatisfied  with  herself,  and  too  restless  to 
sleep,  the  orphan  passed  the  weary  hours  of  the  m>ht  in 
endeavoring  to  complete  a  chapter  on  Buddhism,  which  she 


192 


ST.  ELMO. 


had  commenced  some  days  before;  and  the  birds  were 
chirping  their  reveille,  and  the  sky  blanched  and  reddened 
ere  she  lay  down  her  pen  and  locked  up  her  MS.  Throwing 
open  the  blinds  of  the  eastern  window,  she  stood  for  some 
time  looking  out,  gathering  strength  from  the  holy  calm 
of  the  dewy  morning,  resolving  to  watch  her  own  heart 
ceaselessly,  to  crush  promptly  the  feeling  she  had  found 
there,  and  to  devote  herself  unreservedly  to  her  studies.  At 
that  moment  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  on  the  stony  walk 
attracted  her  attention,  and  she  saw  Mr.  Murray  riding 
from  the  stables.  As  he  passed  her  window,  he  glanced  up, 
their  eyes  met,  and  he  lifted  his  hat  and  rode  on.  Were 
those  the  same  sinister,  sneering  features  she  had  looked 
at  the  evening  before?  His  face  was  paler,  sterner,  and 
sadder  than  she  had  ever  seen  it,  and,  covering  her  own 
with  her  hands,  she  murmured: 

"God  help  me  to  resist  that  man's  wicknd  magnetism! 
Oh,  Grandpa!  are  you  looking  down  on  your  poor  little 
Pearl?  Will  you  forgive  me  for  allowing  myself  ever  to 
have  thought  kindly  and  tenderly  of  this  strange  temptation 
which  Satan  has  sent  to  draw  my  heart  away  from  my  God 
and  my  duty?  Ah,  Grandpa!  I  will  crush  it — I  will  con 
quer  it !  I  will  not  yield !" 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

AVOIDING  as  much  as  possible  the  society  of  Mrs.  Mur 
ray's  guests,  as  well  as  that  of  her  son,  Edna  turned  to 
her  books  with  increased  energy  and  steadfastness,  while 
her  manner  was  marked  by  a  studied  reticence  hitherto 
unnoticed.  The  house  was  thronged  with  visitors,  and 
families  residing  in  the  neighborhood  were  frequently  in 
vited  to  dinner ;  but  the  orphan  generally  contrived  on  these 
occasions  to  have  an  engagement  at  the  parsonage;  and  as 
Mrs.  Murray  no  longer  required,  or  seemed  to  desire  her 
presence,  she  spent  much  of  her  time  alone,  and  rarely  saw 
the  members  of  the  household,  except  at  breakfast.  She 
noticed  that  Mr.  Allston  either  felt  or  feigned  unbounded 
admiration  for  Estelle,  who  graciously  received  his  devoted 
attentions ;  while  Mr.  Murray  now  and  then  sneered  openly 
at  both,  and  appeared  daily  more  impatient  to  quit  the  home, 
of  which  he  spoke  with  undisguised  disgust.  As  day  after 
day  and  week  after  week  slipped  by  without  bringing  tid 
ings  of  Edna's  MS.,  her  heart  became  oppressed  with 
anxious  forebodings,  and  she  found  it  difficult  to  wait 
patiently  for  the  verdict  upon  which  hung  all  her  hopes. 

One  Thursday  afternoon,  when  a  number  of  persons  had 
been  invited  to  dine  at  Le  Bocage,  and  Mrs.  Murray  was 
engrossed  by  preparations  for  their  entertainment,  Edna 
took  her  Greek  books  and  stole  away  unobserved  to  the  par 
sonage,  where  she  spent  a  quiet  evening  in  reading  aloud 
from  the  Organon  of  Aristotle. 

It  was  quite  late  when  Mr.  Hammond  took  her  home  in 
his  buggy,  and  bade  her  good-night  at  the  doorstep.  As 
she  entered  the  house  she  saw  several  couples  promenading 
on  the  veranda,  and  heard  Estelle  and  Clinton  Allston  sing 
ing  a  duet  from  "II  Trovatore."  Passing  the  parlor  door,  one 
quick  glance  showed  her  Mr.  Murray  and  Mr.  Leigh  stand- 
nig  together  under  the  chandelier — the  latter  gentleman 
talking  earnestly,  the  former  with  his  gaze  fastened  on  the 

[193] 


194  ST-  ELMO. 

carpet,  and  a  chilling  smile  fixed  on  his  lip.  The  faces  of 
the  two  presented  a  painful  contrast — one  fair,  hopeful, 
bright  with  noble  aims,  and  youthful  yet  manly  beauty ;  the 
other  swarthy,  cold,  repulsive  as  some  bronze  image  of 
Abaddon.  For  more  than  three  weeks  Edna  had  not  spoken 
to  Mr.  Murray,  except  to  say  "good-morning,"  as  she  en 
tered  the  dining-room  or  passed  him  in  the  hall;  and  now, 
with  a  sigh  which  she  did  not  possess  the  courage  to  analyze, 
she  went  up  to  her  room  and  sat  down  to  read. 

Among  the  books  on  her  desk  was  Machiavelli's  Prince 
and  History  of  Florence,  and  the  copy,  which  was  an  ex 
ceedingly  handsome  one,  contained  a  portrait  of  the  author. 
Between  the  regular  features  of  the  Florentine  satirist  and 
those  of  the  master  of  the  house,  Edna  had  so  frequently 
found  a  startling  resemblance,  that  she  one  day  mentioned 
the  subject  to  Mrs.  Murray,  who,  after  a  careful  examina 
tion  of  the  picture,  was  forced  to  admit,  rather  ungraciously, 
that,  "they  certainly  looked  somewhat  alike."  To-night,  as 
the  orphan  lifted  the  volume  from  its  resting-place,  it  opened 
at  the  portrait,  and  she  looked  long  at  the  handsome  face 
which,  had  the  lips  been  thinner,  and  the  hair  thicker  and 
more  curling  at  the  temples,  might  have  been  daguerreo- 
typed  from  that  one  downstairs  under  the  chandelier. 

One  maxim  of  the  Prince  had  certainly  been  adopted  by 
Mr.  Murray,  "It  is  safer  to  be  feared  than  to  be  loved" ; 
and,  while  the  orphan  detested  the  crafty  and  unscrupulous 
policy  of  Niccolo  Machiavelli,  her  reason  told  her  that  the 
character  of  St.  Elmo  Murray  was  scarcely  more  worthy 
of  respect. 

She  heard  the  guests  take  their  departure,  heard  Mrs. 
Murray  ask  Hagar  whether  "Edna  had  returned  from  the 
parsonage,"  and  then  doors  were  closed  and  the  house  grew 
silent. 

Vain  were  the  girl's  efforts  to  concentrate  her  thoughts 
on  her  books  or  upon  her  MS.,  they  wandered  toward  the 
portrait;  and,  finally  remembering  that  she  needed  a  book 
of  reference,  she  lighted  a  candle,  took  the  copy  of  Machia 
velli,  which  she  determined  to  put  out  of  sight,  and  went 
down  to  the  library.  The  smell  of  a  cigar  aroused  her  sus 
picions  as  she  entered,  and,  glancing  nervously  around  the 
room,  she  saw  Mr.  Murray  seated  before  the  window. 


ST.  ELMO.  195 

His  face  was  turned  from  her,  and,  hoping  to  escape  un 
noticed,  she  was  retracing  her  steps  when  he  rose. 

"Come  in,  Edna.  I  am  waiting  for  you,  for  I  knew  you 
would  be  here  some  time  before  day." 

Taking  the  candle  from  her  hand,  he  held  it  close  to  her 
face,  and  compressed  his  lips  tightly  for  an  instant. 

"How  long  do  you  suppose  your  constitution  will  endure 
the  tax  you  impose  upon  it?  Midnight  toil  has  already 
robbed  you  of  your  color,  and  converted  a  rosy,  robust  child 
into  a  pale,  weary,  hollow-eyed  woman.  What  do  you  want 
here?" 

'The  Edda." 

"What  business  have  you  with  Norse  myths,  with  runes 
and  scalds  and  sagas?  You  can't  have  the  book.  I  carried 
it  to  my  room  yesterday,  and  I  am  in  no  mood  to-night  to 
play  errand-boy  for  any  one." 

Edna  turned  to  place  the  copy  of  Machiavelli  on  the 
shelves,  and  he  continued : 

"It  is  a  marvel  that  the  index1  expurgatorius  of  your 
saintly  tutor  does  not  taboo  the  infamous  doctrines  of  the 
greatest  statesman  of  Italy.  I  am  told  that  you  do  me  the 
honor  to  discover  a  marked  likeness  between  his  counte 
nance  and  mine.  May  I  flatter  myself  so  highly  as  to  be 
lieve  the  statement?" 

"Even  your  mother  admits  the  resemblance." 

"Think  you  the  analogy  extends  further  than  the  mere 
physique,  or  do  you  trace  it  only  in  the  corporeal  develop 
ment  ?" 

"I  believe,  sir,  that  your  character  is  as  much  a  counter 
part  of  his  as  your  features;  that  your  code  is  quite  as  lax 
as  his." 

She  had  abstained  from  looking  at  him,  but  now  her  eyes 
met  his  fearlessly,  and  in  their  beautiful  depths  he  read  an 
expression  of  helpless  repulsion,  such  as  a  bird  might  evince 
for  the  serpent  whose  glittering  eyes  enchained  it. 

"Ah!  at  least  your  honesty  is  refreshing  in  these  accursed 
days  of  hypocritical  sycophancy!  I  wonder  how  much  more 
training  it  will  require  before  your  lips  learn  fashionable 
lying  tricks?  But  you  understand  me  as  little  as  the  world 
understood  poor  Machiavelli,  of  whom  Burke  justly  re 
marked,  'He  is  obliged  to  bear  the  iniquities  of  those  whose 


196  ST.  ELMO. 

maxims  and  rules  of  government  he  published.  His  specu 
lation  is  more  abhorred  than  their  practice.'  We  are  both 
painted  blacker  than " 

"I  came  here,  sir,  to  discuss  neither  his  character  nor 
yours.  It  is  a  topic  for  which  I  have  as  little  leisure  as 
inclination.  Good-night,  Mr.  Murray." 

He  bowed  low,  and  spoke  through  set  teeth : 

"I  regret  the  necessity  of  detaining  you  a  moment  longer, 
but  I  believe  you  have  been*  anxiously  expecting  a  letter  for 
some  time,  as  I  hear  that  you  every  day  anticipate  my  in 
quiries  at  the  post-office.  This  afternoon  the  express  agent 
gave  me  this  package." 

He  handed  her  a  parcel  and  smiled  as  he  watched  the 
startled  look,  the  expression  of  dismay,  of  keen  disappoint 
ment  that  came  into  her  face. 

The  frail  bark  had  struck  the  reefs;  she  felt  that  her 
hopes  were  going  down  to  ruin,  and  her  lips  quivered  with 
pain  as  she  recognized  Mr.  Manning's  bold  chirography  on 
the  paper  wrapping. 

"What  is  the  matter,  child?" 

"Something  that  concerns  only  myself." 

"Are  you  unwilling  to  trust  me  with  your  secret,  what 
ever  it  may  be?  I  would  sooner  find  betrayal  from  the 
grinning  skeletons  in  monastic  crypts  than  from  my  lips." 

Smothering  a  sigh,  she  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

"That  means  that  red-hot  steel  could  not  pinch  it  out  of 
you;  and  that,  despite  your  boasted  charity  and  love  of 
humanity,  you  really  entertain  as  little  confidence  in  your 
race  as  it  is  my  pleasure  to  indulge.  I  applaud  your  wis 
dom,  but  certainly  did  not  credit  you  with  so  much  crafti 
ness.  My  reason  for  not  delivering  the  parcel  more  promptly 
was  simply  the  wish  to  screen  you  from  the  Argus  scrutiny 
with  which  we  are  both  favored  by  some  now  resident  at 
Bocage.  As  your  letters  subjected  you  to  suspicion,  I  pre 
sumed  it  would  be  more  agreeable  to  you  to  receive  them 
without  witnesses." 

He  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  gave  it  to  her. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Murray ;  you  are  very  kind." 

"Pardon  me!  that  is  indeed  a  novel  accusation!  Kind,  I 
never  professed  to  be.  I  am  simply  not  quite  a  brute,  nor 
altogether  a  devil  of  the  most  malicious  and  vindictive 


ST.  ELMO.  197 

variety,  as  you  doubtless  consider  it  your  religious  duty  to 
believe.  However,  having  hopelessly  lost  my  character,  I 
shall  not  trespass  on  your  precious  time  by  wasting  words 
in  pronouncing  a  eulogy  upon  it,  as  Antony  did  over  the 
stabbed  corpse  of  Caesar!  I  stand  in  much  the  same  rela 
tion  to  society  that  King  John  did  to  Christendom,  when 
Innocent  III.  excommunicated  him ;  only  I  snap  my  fingers 
in  the  face  of  my  pontiff,  the  world,  and  jingle  my  Peter- 
pence  in  my  pocket ;  whereas  poor  John's  knees  quaked  until 
he  found  himself  at  the  feet  of  Innocent,  meekly  receiving 
Langton,  and  paying  tribute!  Child,  you  are  in  trouble; 
and  your  truthful  countenance  reveals  it  as  unmistakably 
as  did  the  Phrygian  reeds  that  babbled  of  the  personal  beau 
ties  of  Midas.  Of  course,  it  does  not  concern  me — it  is  not 
my  business — and  you  certainly  have  as  good  a  right  as 
any  other  child  of  Adam,  to  fret  and  cry  and  pout  over 
your  girlish  griefs,  to  sit  up  all  night,  ruin  your  eyes,  and 
grow  rapidly  and  prematurely  old  and  ugly.  But  whenever 
I  chance  to  stumble  over  a  wounded  creature  trying  to  drag 
itself  out  of  sight,  I  generally  either  wring  its  neck,  or  set 
my  heel  on  it,  to  end  its  torment;  or  else,  if  there  is  a  fair 
prospect  of  the  injury  healing  by  'first  intention/  I  take  it 
gently  on  the  tip  of  my  boot,  and  help  it  out  of  my  way. 
Something  has  hurt  you,  and  I  suspect  I  can  aid  you.  Your 
anxiety  about  those  letters  proves  that  you  doubt  your  idol. 
You  and  your  lover  have  quarreled?  Be  frank  with  me; 
tell  me  his  name,  and  I  swear  upon  the  honor  of  a  gentle 
man  I  will  rectify  the  trouble — will  bring  him  in  contrition 
to  your  feet." 

Whether  he  dealt  in  irony,  as  was  his  habit,  or  really 
meant  what  he  said,  she  was  unable  to  determine;  and  her 
quick  glance  at  his  countenance  showed  her  only  a  danger 
ous  sparkle  in  his  eyes. 

"Mr.  Murray,  you  are  wrong  in  your  conjecture;  I  have 
no  lover." 

"Oh,  call  him  what  you  please!  I  shall  not  presume  to 
dictate  your  terms  of  endearment.  I  merely  wish  to  say 
that  if  poverty  stands  forbiddingly  between  you  and  hap 
piness,  why,  command  me  to  the  extent  of  half  my  fortune, 
I  will  give  you  a  dowry  that  shall  equal  the  expectations  of 
any  ambitious  suitor  in  the  land.  Trust  me,  child,  with 


198  ST.  ELMO. 

your  sorrow  and  I  will  prove  a  faithful  friend.  Who  has 
your  heart?" 

The  unexpected  question  alarmed  and  astonished  her,  and 
a  shivering  dread  took  possession  of  her  that  he  suspected 
her  real  feelings,  and  was  laughing  at  her  folly.  Treacher 
ous  blood  began  to  paint  confusion  in  her  face,  and  vehe 
ment  and  rapid  were  her  words. 

"God  and  my  conscience  own  my  heart.  I  know  no  man 
to  whom  I  would  willingly  give  it;  and  the  correspondence 
to  which  you  allude  contains  not  a  syllable  of  love.  My 
time  is  rather  too  valuable  to  be  frittered  away  in  such 
trifling." 

"Edna,  would  you  prefer  to  have  me  a  sworn  ally  or  an 
avowed  enemy?" 

"I  should  certainly  prefer  to  consider  you  as  neither." 

"Did  you  ever  know  me  fail  in  any  matter  which  I  had 
determined  to  accomplish?" 

"Yes,  sir;  your  entire  life  is  a  huge,  hideous,  woeful 
failure,  which  mocks  and  maddens  you." 

"What  the  d — 1  do  you  know  of  my  life?  It  is  not  ended 
yet,  and  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether  a  grand  success  is 
not  destined  to  crown  it.  Mark  you !  the  grapple  is  not  quite 
over,  and  I  may  yet  throttle  the  furies  whose  cursed  fingers 
clutched  me  in  my  boyhood.  If  I  am  conquered  finally,  take 
my  oath  for  it,  I  shall  die  so  hard  that  the  howling  hngs 
will  be  welcome  to  their  prey.  Single-handed,  I  am  fighting 
the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  and  I  want  neither  inspec 
tion,  nor  sympathy,  nor  assistance.  Do  you  understand  me  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  And  as  I  certainly  desire  to  thrust  neither 
upon  you,  I  will  bid  you  good-night." 

"One  moment !    What  does  that  package  contain  ?" 

"The  contents  belong  exclusively  to  me — could  not  pos 
sibly  interest  you — would  only  challenge  your  sarcasm,  and 
furnish  food  for  derision.  Consequently,  Mr.  Murray,  you 
must  excuse  me  if  I  decline  your  question." 

"I'll  wager  my  title  to  Le  Bocage  that  I  can  guess  so  accu 
rately  that  you  will  regret  that  you  did  not  make  a  grace  of 
necessity  and  tell  me." 

A  vague  terror  overshadowed  her  features  as  she  exam 
ined  the  seals  on  the  package,  and  replied : 


ST.  ELMO. 


199 


"That,  sir,  is  impossible,  if  you  are  the  honorable  gentle 
man  I  have  always  tried  to  force  myself  to  believe." 

"Silly  child!  Do  you  imagine  I  would  condescend  to  soil 
my  fingers  with  the  wax  that  secures  that  trash?  That  I 
could  stoop  to  an  inspection  of  the  correspondence  of  a  vil 
lage  blacksmith's  granddaughter  ?  I  will  give  you  one  more 
chance  to  close  the  breach  between  us  by  proving  your  trust. 
Edna,  have  you  no  confidence  in  me?" 

"None,  Mr.  Murray." 

"Will  you  oblige  me  by  looking  me  full  in  the  face,  and 
repeating  your  flattering  words  ?" 

She  raised  her  head,  and  though  her  heart  throbbed 
fiercely  as  she  met  his  eyes,  her  voice  was  cold,  steady  and 
resolute. 

"None,  Mr.  Murray." 

"Thank  you.  Some  day  those  same  red  lips  will  humbly, 
tremblingly  crave  my  pardon  for  what  they  utter  now ;  and 
then,  Edna  Earl,  I  shall  take  my  revenge,  and  you  will  look 
back  to  this  night  and  realize  the  full  force  of  my  parting 
words — vce  victis!" 

He  stooped  and  picked  up  a  bow  of  rose-colored  ribbon 
which  had  fallen  from  her  throat,  handed  it  to  her,  smiled, 
and,  with  one  of  those  low,  graceful,  haughty  bows  so  in 
dicative  of  his  imperious  nature,  he  left  the  library.  A 
moment  after,  she  heard  his  peculiar  laugh,  mirthless  and 
bitter,  ring  through  the  rotunda ;  then  the  door  was  slammed 
violently,  and  quiet  reigned  once  more  through  the  mansion. 

Taking  the  candle  from  the  table,  where  Mr.  Murray  had 
placed  it,  Edna  went  back  to  her  own  room  and  sat  down 
before  the  window. 

On  her  lap  lay  the  package  and  letter,  which  she  no 
longer  felt  any  desire  to  open,  and  her  hands  drooped  list 
lessly  at  her  side.  The  fact  that  her  MS.  was  returned  rung 
a  knell  for  all  her  sanguine  hopes,  for  such  was  her  con 
fidence  in  the  critical  acumen  of  Mr.  Manning  that  she 
deemed  it  utterly  useless  to  appeal  to  any  other  tribunal. 
A  higher  one  she  knew  not ;  a  lower  she  scorned  to  consult. 

She  felt  like  Alice  Lisle  on  that  day  of  doom,  when  Jef 
freys  pronounced  the  fatal  sentence ;  and,  after  a  time,  when 
she  summoned  courage  to  open  the  letter,  her  cheeks  were 


200  ST.  ELMO. 

wan  and  her  lips  compressed  so  firmly  that  their  curves  of 
beauty  were  no  longer  traceable. 

"Miss  EARL  :  I  return  your  MS.,  not  because  it  is  devoid 
of  merit,  but  from  the  conviction  that  were  I  to  accept  it, 
the  day  would  inevitably  come  when  you  would  regret  its 
premature  publication.  While  it  contains  irrefragable  evi 
dence  of  extraordinary  ability,  and  abounds  in  descriptions 
of  great  beauty,  your  style  is  characterized  by  more 
strength  than  polish,  and  is  marred  by  crudities  which  a- 
dainty  public  would  never  tolerate.  The  subject  you  have 
undertaken  is  beyond  your  capacity — no  woman  could  suc 
cessfully  handle  it — and  the  sooner  you  realize  your  over 
estimate  of  your  powers,  the  sooner  your  aspirations  find 
their  proper  level,  the  sooner  you  will  succeed  in  your  treat 
ment  of  some  theme  better  suited  to  your  feminine  ability. 
Burn  the  enclosed  MS.,  the  erudition  and  archaisms  of 
which  would  fatally  nauseate  the  intellectual  dyspeptics  who 
read  my  'Maga,'  and  write  sketches  of  home  life — descrip 
tions  of  places  and  things  that  you  understand  better  than 
recondite  analogies  of  ethical  creeds  and  my tho logic  sys 
tems,  or  the  subtle  lore  of  Coptic  priests.  Remember  that 
women  never  write  histories  or  epics;  never  compose  ora 
torios  that  go  sounding  down  the  centuries;  never  paint 
'Last  Suppers'  and  'Judgment  Days' ;  though  now  and  then 
one  gives  the  world  a  pretty  ballad  that  sounds  s\veet  and 
soothing  when  sung  over  a  cradle,  or  another  paints  a  pleas 
ant  little  genre  sketch  which  will  hang  appropriately  in 
some  quiet  corner  and  rest  and  refresh  eyes  that  are  weary 
with  gazing  at  the  sublime  spiritualism  of  Fra  Bartolomeo, 
or  the  gloomy  grandeur  of  Salvator  Rosa.  If  you  have  any 
short  articles  that  you  desire  to  see  in  print,  you  may  for 
ward  them,  and  I  will  select  any  for  publication,  which  I 
think  you  will  not  blush  to  acknowledge  in  future  years. 
"Very  respectfully, 

"Your  obedient  servant, 

"DOUGLASS  G.  MANNING." 

Unwrapping  the  MS.,  she  laid  it  with  its  death-warrant  in 
a  drawer,  then  sat  down,  crossed  her  arms  on  the  top  of  her 
desk,  and  rested  her  head  upon  them.  The  face  was  not 


ST.  ELMO.  201 

concealed,  and,  as  the  light  shone  on  it,  an  experienced 
physiogomist  would  have  read  there  profound  disappoint 
ment,  a  patient  weariness,  but  unbending,  resolution  and  no 
vestige  of  bitterness.  The  large,  thoughtful  eyes  were  sad 
but  dry,  and  none  who  looked  into  them  could  have  imagined 
for  an  instant  that  she  would  follow  the  advice  she  had  so 
eagerly  sought.  During  her  long  reverie,  she  wondered 
whether  all  women  were  browbeaten  for  aspiring  to  literary 
honors;  whether  the  poignant  pain  and  mortification  gnaw 
ing  at  her  heart  was  the  inexorable  initiation- fee  for  entrance 
upon  the  arena  where  fame  adjudges  laurel  crowns,  and  re 
luctantly  and  sullenly  drops  one  now  and  then  on  female 
brows.  To  possess  herself  of  the  golden  apple  of  immor 
tality  was  a  purpose  from  which  she  had  never  swerved; 
but  how  to  baffle  the  dragon  critics  who  jealously  guarded 
it  was  a  problem  whose  solution  puzzled  her. 

To  abandon  her  right  to  erudition  formed  no  part  of  the 
programme  which  she  was  mentally  arranging  as  she  sat 
there  watching  a  moth  singe  its  filmy,  spotted  wings  in  the 
gas-flame ;  for  she  was  obstinately  wedded  to  the  unpardon 
able  heresy  that,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  it  was  a  woman's 
privilege  to  be  as  learned  as  Cuvier,  or  Sir  William  Hamil 
ton,  or  Humboldt,  provided  the  learning  was  accurate,  and 
gave  out  no  hollow,  counterfeit  ring  under  the  merciless 
hammering  of  the  dragons.  If  women  chose  to  blister  their 
fair,  tender  hands  in  turning  the  windlass  of  that  fabled 
well  where  truth  is  hidden,  and  bruised  their  pretty,  white 
feet  in  groping  finally  on  the  rocky  bottom,  was  the  treasure 
which  they  ultimately  discovered  and  dragged  to  light  any 
the  less  truth  because  stentorian,  manly  voices  were  not  the 
first  to  shout  Eureka? 

She  could  not  understand  why,  in  the  vineyard  of  letters, 
the  laborer  v>s  not  equally  worthy  of  hire,  whether  the 
work  was  successfully  accomplished  in  the  toga  virilis  or  the 
gay  kirtle  of  contadina. 

Gradually  the  expression  of  pain  passed  from  the  girl's 
countenance,  and,  lifting  her  head,  she  took  from  her  desk 
several  small  MSS.,  that  she  had  carefully  written  from 
time  to  time,  as  her  reading  suggested  the  ideas  embodied 
in  the  articles.  Among  the  number  were  two,  upon  which 


202  ST.  ELMO. 

she  had  bestowed  much  thought,  which  she  determined  to 
send  to  Mr.  Manning. 

One  was  an  elaborate  description  of  that  huge  iconoclasm 
attributed  to  Alcibiades,  and  considered  by  some  philosophic 
students  of  history  the  chief  cause  of  the  ruin  of  Athens. 
In  order  to  reflect  all  possible  light  on  this  curious  occur 
rence,  she  had  most  assiduously  gleaned  the  pages  of  history, 
and  massed  the  grains  of  truth;  had  studied  maps  of  the 
city  and  descriptions  of  travellers,  that  she  might  thoroughly 
understand  the  topography  of  the  scene  of  the  great  dese 
cration.  So  fearful  was  she  of  committing  some  an 
achronism,  or  of  soaring  on  the  wings  of  fancy  beyond  the 
realm  of  well-authenticated  facts,  that  she  searched  the 
ancient  records  to  ascertain  whether  on  that  night  in  May, 
415  B.  c.,  a  full  or  a  new  moon  looked  down  on  the  bronze 
helmet  of  Minerva  Promachus  and  the  fretted  frieze  of  the 
Parthenon. 

The  other  MS.,  upon  which  she  had  expended  much 
labor,  was  entitled  "Keeping  the  Vigil  of  St.  Martin  Under 
the  Pines  of  Griitli";  and  while  her  vivid  imagination  re 
velled  in  the  weird  and  solemn  surroundings  of  the  lonely 
place  of  rendezvous,  the  sketch  contained  a  glowing  and 
eloquent  tribute  to  the  liberators  of  Helvetia,  the  Confeder 
ates  of  Schweitz,  Uri,  and  Underwalden. 

Whether  Mr.  Manning  would  consider  either  of  these 
articles  worthy  of  preservation  in  the  pages  of  his  maga 
zine,  she  thought  exceedingly  doubtful ;  but  she  had  re 
solved  to  make  one  more  appeal  to  his  fastidious  judgment, 
and  accordingly  sealed  and  directed  the  roll  of  paper. 

Weary  but  sleepless,  she  pushed  back  the  heavy  folds  of 
hair  that  had  fallen  on  her  forehead,  brightened  the  gas 
light,  and  turned  to  the  completion  of  a  chapter  in  that  MS. 
which  the  editor  had  recommended  her  to  commit  to  the 
flames.  So  entirely  was  she  absorbed  in  her  work  that  the 
hours  passed  unheeded.  Now  and  then,  when  her  thoughts 
failed  to  flow  smoothly  into  graceful  sentence  moulds,  she 
laid  aside  her  pen,  walked  up  and  down  the  floor,  turning 
the  idea  over  and  over,  fitting  it  first  to  one  phrase,  then  to 
another,  until  the  verbal  drapery  fully  suited  her. 

The  whistle  of  the  locomotive  at  the  station  told  her  that 
it  was  four  o'clock  before  her  task  was  accomplished;  and, 


ST.  ELMO.  203 

praying  that  God's  blessing  would  rest  upon  it,  she  left  it 
unfinished,  and  threw  herself  down  to  sleep. 

But  slumber  brought  no  relaxation  to  the  busy  brain  that 
toiled  on  in  fitful,  grotesque  dreams;  and  when  sunshine 
streamed  through  the  open  window  at  the  foot  of  her  bed, 
it  showed  no  warm  flush  of  healthful  sleep  on  the  beautiful 
face,  but  weariness  and  pallor.  Incoherent  words  stirred 
the  lips,  troubled  thought  knitted  the  delicately  arched 
brows,  and  the  white,  dimpled  arms  were  tossed  restlessly 
above  her  head. 

Was  the  tired  midnight  worker  worthy  of  her  hire?  The 
world  would  one  day  pay  her  wages  in  the  currency  of 
gibes,  and  denunciation,  and  envious  censoriousness ;  but 
the  praise  of  men  had  not  tempted  her  to  the  vineyard,  and 
she  looked  in  faith  to  Him  ''who  seeth  in  secret,"  and  whose 
rewards  are  at  variance  with  those  of  the  taskmasters  of 
earth.  "Wherefore,"  O  lonely  but  conscientious  student! 
"be  ye  steadfast,  unmovable,  always  abounding  in  the  work 
of  the  Lord,  forasmuch  as  ye  know  that  your  labor  is  not 
in  vain." 

Literary  women,  whose  avocation  is  selected  simply  be 
cause  they  fancy  it  easier  to  write  than  to  sew  for  bread, 
or  because  they  covet  the  applause  and  adulation  heaped 
upon  successful  genius,  or  desire  mere  notoriety,  generally 
barter  their  birthright  of  quiet,  life-long  happiness  in  the 
peaceful  seclusion  of  home  for  a  nauseous  mess  of  poisoned 
pottage  that  will  not  appease  their  hunger;  and  they  go 
down  to  untimely  graves  disappointed,  embittered,  hating 
the  public  for  whose  praises  they  toiled,  cheated  out  of  the 
price  for  which  they  bargained  away  fireside  joys  and 
domestic  serenity. 

The  fondest  hope  of  Edna's  heart  was  to  be  useful  in 
"her  day  and  generation" — to  be  an  instrument  of  some 
good  to  her  race ;  and  while  she  hoped  for  popularity  as  an 
avenue  to  the  accomplishment  of  her  object,  the  fear  of 
ridicule  and  censure  had  no  power  to  deter  her  from  the 
line  of  labor  upon  which  she  constantly  invoked  the 
guidance  and  blessing  of  God. 

The  noble  words  of  Kepler  rang  a  ceaseless  silvery  chime 
in  her  soul,  and  while  they  sustained  and  strengthened  her, 


204 


ST.  ELMO. 


she  sought  to  mould  her  life  in  harmony  with  their  sub 
lime  teachings: 

"Lo !  I  have  done  the  work  of  my  life  with  that  power  of 
intellect  which  thou  hast  given.  If  I,  a  worm  before  Thine 
eyes,  and  born  in  the  bonds  of  sin,  have  brought  forth  any 
thing  that  is  unworthy  of  Thy  counsels,  inspire  me  with 
Thy  spirit,  that  I  may  correct  it.  If  by  the  wonderful 
beauty  of  Thy  works  I  have  been  led  into  boldness — if  I 
have  sought  my  own  honor  among  men  as  I  advanced  in 
the  work  which  was  destined  to  Thine  honor,  pardon  me  in 
kindness  and  charity,  and  by  Thy  grace  grant  that  my 
teaching  may  be  to  Thy  glory  and  the  welfare  of  all  men. 
Praise  ye  the  Lord,  ye  heavenly  harmonies!  and  ye  that 
understand  the  new  harmonies,  praise  ye  the  Lord!" 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

"MR.  HAMMOND,  are  you  ill?    What  can  be  the  matter?" 

Edna  threw  down  her  books  and  put  her  hand  on  the  old 
man's  shoulder.  His  face  was  concealed  in  his  arms,  and 
his  half-stifled  groan  told  that  some  fierce  trial  had  over 
taken  him. 

"Oh,  child!  I  am  troubled,  perplexed,  and  my  heart  is 
heavy  with  a  sorrow  which  I  thought  I  had  crushed." 

He  raised  his  head  for  a  moment,  looked  sadly  into  the 
girl's  face,  and  dropped  his  furrowed  cheek  on  his  hand. 

"Has  anything  happened  since  I  saw  you  yesterday?" 

"Yes,  I  have  been  surprised  by  the  arrival  of  some  of  my 
relatives,  whose  presence  in  my  house  revives  very  painful 
associations  connected  with  earlier  years.  My  niece,  Mrs. 
Powell,  and  her  daughter  Gertrude,  came  very  unexpectedly 
last  night  to  make  me  a  visit  of  some  length;  and  to  you, 
my  child,  I  can  frankly  say  the  surprise  is  a  painful  one. 
Many  years  have  elapsed  since  I  received  any  tidings  of 
Agnes  Powell,  and  I  knew  not,  until  she  suddenly  appeared 
before  me  last  night,  that  she  was  a  widow,  and  bereft  of 
a  handsome  fortune.  She  claims  a  temporary  home  under 
my  roof;  and,  though  she  has  caused  me  much  suffering,  I 
feel  that  I  must  endeavor  to  be  patient  and  kind  to  her  and 
her  child.  I  have  endured  many  trials,  but  this  is  one  of 
the  severest  I  have  yet  been  called  to  pass  through." 

Distressed  by  the  look  of  anguish  on  his  pale  face,  Edna 
took  his  hand  between  both  hers,  and  stroking  it  caress 
ingly,  said : 

"My  dear  sir,  if  it  is  your  duty,  God  will  strengthen  and 
sustain  you.  Cheer  up ;  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  looking  so 
troubled.  A  cloud  on  your  face,  my  dear  Mr.  Hammond, 
is  to  me  like  an  eclipse  of  the  sun.  Pray  do  not  keep  me 
in  shadow." 

"If  I  could  know  that  no  mischief  would  result  from 
Agnes's  presence,  I  would  not  regard  it  so  earnestly.  I  do 

[205] 


206  ST.  ELMO. 

not  wish  to  be  uncharitable  or  suspicious;  but  I  fear  that 
her  motives  are  not  such  as  I  could " 

"May  I  intrude,  Uncle  Allan?" 

The  stranger's  voice  was  very  sweet  and  winning,  and 
as  she  entered  the  room  Edna  could  scarcely  repress  an 
exclamation  of  admiration;  for  the  world  sees  but  rarely 
such  perfect  beauty  as  was  the  portion  of  Agnes  Powell. 

She  was  one  of  those  few  women  who  seem  the  pets  of 
time,  whose  form  and  features  catch  some  new  grace  and 
charm  from  every  passing  year ;  and  but  for  the  tall,  lovely 
girl  who  clung  to  her  hand  and  called  her  "mother,"  a 
stranger  would  have  believed  her  only  twenty-six  or  eight. 

Fair,  rosy,  with  a  complexion  fresh  as  a  child's,  and  a 
face  faultless  in  contour,  as  that  of  a  Greek  goddess,  it  was 
impossible  to  resist  the  fascination  which  she  exerted  over 
all  who  looked  upon  her.  Her  waving  yellow  hair  flashed 
in  the  morning  sunshine,  and  as  she  raised  one  hand  to 
shade  her  large,  clear,  blue  eyes,  her  open  sleeve  fell  back, 
disclosing  an  arm  dazzlingly  white  and  exquisitely  moulded. 
As  Mr.  Hammond  introduced  his  pupil  to  his  guests,  Mrs. 
Powell  smiled  pleasantly,  and  pressed  the  offered  hand ;  but 
the  eyes,  blue  and  cold  as  the  stalactites  of  Capri,  scanned 
the  orphan's  countenance,  and  when  Edna  had  seen  fully 
into  their  depths,  she  could  not  avoid  recalling  Heine's  poem 
of  Loreley. 

"My  daughter  Gertrude  promises  herself  much  pleasure 
in  your  society,  Miss  Earl;  for  uncle's  praises  prepare  her 
to  expect  a  most  charming  companion.  She  is  about  your 
age,  but  I  fear  you  will  find  great  disparity  in  her  attain 
ments,  as  she  has  not  been  so  fortunate  as  to  receive  her 
education  from  Uncle  Allan.  You  are,  I  believe,  an  adopted 
daughter  of  Mrs.  Murray?" 

"No,  madam ;  only  a  resident  in  her  house  until  my  educa 
tion  is  pronounced  sufficiently  advanced  to  justify  my  teach- 
ing." 

"I  have  a  friend,  Miss  Harding,  who  has  recently  re 
moved  to  Le  Bocage,  and  intends  making  it  her  home.  How 
is  she?" 

"Quite  well,  I  believe." 

Mr.  Hammond  left  the  study  for  a  moment,  and  Mrs. 
Powell  added: 


ST.  ELMO.  207 

"Her  friends  at  the  North  tell  me  that  she  is  to  marry 
her  cousin,  Mr.  Murray,  very  soon." 

"I  had  not  heard  the  report." 

"Then  you  think  there  are  no  grounds  for  the  rumor  ?" 

"Indeed,  madam,  I  know  nothing  whatever  concerning 
the  matter." 

"Estelle  is  handsome  and  brilliant." 

Edna  made  no  reply;  and,  after  waiting  a  few  seconds, 
Mrs.  Powell  asked: 

"Does  Mr.  Murray  go  much  into  society  now?" 

"I  believe  not."  i 

"Is  he  as  handsome  as  ever?" 

"I  do  not  know  when  you  saw  him  last,  but  the  ladies 
here  seem  rather  to  dread  than  admire  him.  Mrs.  Powell, 
you  are  dipping  your  sleeve  in  your  uncle's  inkstand." 

She  by  no  means  relished  this  catechism,  and  resolved  to 
end  it.  Picking  up  her  books,  she  said  to  Mr.  Hammond, 
who  now  stood  in  the  door: 

"I  presume  I  need  not  wait,  as  you  will  be  too  much  occu 
pied  to-day  to  attend  to  my  lessons." 

"Yes ;  I  must  give  you  holiday  until  Monday." 

"Miss  Earl,  may  I  trouble  you  to  hand  this  letter  to  Miss 
Harding?  It  was  entrusted  to  my  care  by  one  of  her 
friends  in  New  York.  Pray  be  so  good  as  to  deliver  it,  with 
my  kindest  regards." 

As  Edna  left  the  house,  the  pastor  took  his  hat  from  the 
rack  in  the  hall,  and  walked  silently  beside  her  until  she 
reached  the  gate. 

"Mr.  Hammond,  your  niece  is  the  most  beautiful  woman 
I  have  ever  seen." 

He  sighed  heavily,  and  answered,  hesitatingly: 

"Yes,  yes.  She  is  more  beautiful  now  than  when  she  first 
grew  up." 

"How  long  has  she  been  a  widow?" 

"Not  quite  a  year." 

The  troubled  expression  settled  once  more  over  his  placid 
face,  and  when  Edna  bade  him  good-morning,  and  had 
walked  some  distance,  she  happened  to  look  back,  and  saw 
him  still  leaning  on  the  little  gate  under  the  drooping  honey 
suckle  tendrils,  with  his  gray  head  bent  down  on  his  hand. 

That  Mrs.  Powell  was  in  some  way  connected  with  Mr. 


208  ST.  ELMO. 

Murray's  estrangement  from  the  minister  Edna  felt  sure, 
and  the  curiosity  which  the  inquiries  of  the  former  had 
betrayed,  told  her  that  she  must  be  guarded  in  her  inter 
course  with  a  woman  who  was  an  object  of  distrust  even  to 
her  own  uncle. 

Very  often  she  had  been  tempted  to  ask  Mr.  Hammond 
why  Mr.  Murray  so  sedulously  shunned  him;  but  the 
shadow  which  fell  upon  his  countenance  whenever  St. 
Elmo's  name  was  accidentally  mentioned,  made  her  shrink 
from  alluding  to  the  subject  which  he  evidently  avoided 
discussing. 

Before  she  had  walked  beyond  the  outskirts  of  the  village, 
Mr.  Leigh  joined  her,  and  she  felt  the  color  rise  in  her 
cheeks  as  his  fine  eyes  rested  on  her  face,  and  his  hand 
pressed  hers.  "You  must  forgive  me  for  telling  you  how 
bitterly  I  was  disappointed  in  not  seeing  you  two  days  ago. 
Why  did  you  absent  yourself  from  the  table?" 

"Because  I  had  no  desire  to  meet  Mrs.  Murray's  guests, 
and  preferred  to  spend  my  time  with  Mr.  Hammond." 

"If  he  were  not  old  enough  to  be  your  grandfather,  I  be 
lieve  I  should  be  jealous  of  him.  Edna,  do  not  be  offended, 
I  am  so  anxious  about  you — so  pained  at  the  change  in  your 
appearance.  Last  Sunday  as  you  sat  in  church  I  noticed 
how  very  pale  and  worn  you  looked,  and  with  what  weari 
ness  you  leaned  your  head  upon  your  hand.  Mrs.  Murray 
says  you  are  very  well,  but  I  know  better.  You  are  either 
sick  in  body  or  mind ;  which  is  it  ?" 

"Neither,  Mr.  Leigh.     I  am  quite  well,  I  assure  you." 

"You  are  grieved  about  something,  which  you  are  unwill 
ing  to  confide  to  me.  Edna,  it  is  keen  pain  that  sometimes 
brings  that  quiver  to  your  lips,  and  if  you  would  only  tell 
me !  Edna,  I  know  that  I " 

"You  conjure  up  a  spectre.  I  have  nothing  to  confide, 
and  there  is  no  trouble  which  you  can  relieve." 

They  walked  on  silently  for  a  while,  and  then  Gordon 
said: 

"I  am  going  away  day  after  to-morrow,  to  be  absent  at 
least  for  several  months,  and  I  have  come  to  ask  a  favor 
which  you  are  too  generous  to  deny.  I  want  your  ambro- 
type  or  photograph,  and  I  hope  you  will  give  it  to  me  with 
out  hesitation." 


ST.  ELMO.  209 

"I  have  never  had  a  likeness  of  any  kind  taken." 

"There  is  a  good  artist  here;  will  you  not  go  to-day  and 
have  one  taken  for  me?" 

"No,  Mr.  Leigh." 

"Oh,  Edna!    Why  not?" 

"Because  I  do  not  wish  you  to  think  of  remembering  me. 
The  sooner  you  forget  me  entirely,  save  as  a  mere  friend, 
the  happier  we  both  shall  be." 

"But  that  is  impossible.  If  you  withhold  your  picture  it 
will  do  no  good,  for  I  have  your  face  here  in  my  heart,  and 
you  cannot  take  that  image  ffom  me." 

"At  least  I  will  not  encourage  feelings  which  can  bring 
only  pain  to  me  and  disappointment  to  yourself.  I  consider 
it  unprincipled  and  contemptible  in  a  woman  to  foster  or 
promote  in  any  degree  an  affection  which  she  knows  she 
can  never  reciprocate.  If  I  had  fifty  photographs  I  would 
not  give  you  one.  My  dear  friend,  let  the  past  be  forgotten  ; 
it  saddens  me  whenever  I  think  of  it,  and  is  a  barrier  to  all 
pleasant,  friendly  intercourse.  Good-bye,  Mr.  Leigh.  You 
have  my  best  wishes  on  your  journey." 

"Will  you  not  allow  me  to  see  you  home?" 

"I  think  it  is  best — I  prefer  that  you  should  not.  Mr. 
Leigh,  promise  me  that  you  will  struggle  against  this  feeling 
which  distresses  me  beyond  expression." 

She  turned  and  put  out  her  hand.  He  shook  his  head 
mournfully,  and  said  as  he  left  her: 

"God  bless  you !  It  will  be  a  dreary,  dreary  season  with 
me  till  I  return  and  see  your  face  again.  God  preserve  you 
till  then!" 

Walking  rapidly  homeward,  Edna  wondered  why  she 
could  not  return  Gordon  Leigh's  affection — why  his  noble 
face  never  haunted  her  dreams  instead  of  another's — of 
which  she  dreaded  to  think. 

Looking  rigorously  into  the  past  few  weeks,  she  felt  that 
long  before  she  was  aware  of  the  fact,  an  image  to  which 
she  refused  homage  must  have  stood  between  her  heart  and 
Gordon's. 

When  she  reached  home  she  inquired  for  Miss  Harding, 
and  was  informed  that  she  and  Mrs.  Murray  had  gone  visit 
ing  with  Mr.  Allston;  had  taken  lunch,  and  would  not 
return  until  late  in  the  afternoon.  Hagar  told  her  that  Mr. 


210  ST.  ELMO. 

Murray  had  started  at  daylight  to  one  of  his  plantations 
about  twelve  miles  distant,  and  would  not  be  back  in  time 
for  dinner;  and,  rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of  a  quiet  day,  she 
determined  to  complete  the  chapter  which  she  had  left 
unfinished  two  night  previous. 

Needing  a  reference  in  the  book  which  Mr.  Murray  had 
taken  from  the  library,  she  went  up  to  copy  it;  and  as  she 
sat  down  and  opened  the  volume  to  find  the  passage  she 
required,  a  letter  slipped  out  and  fell  at  her  feet.  She 
glanced  at  the  envelope  as  she  picked  it  up,  and  her  heart 
bounded  painfully  as  she  saw  Mr.  Murray's  name  written 
in  Mr.  Manning's  peculiar  and  unmistakable  chirography. 

The  postmark  and  date  corresponded  exactly  with  the 
one  that  she  had  received  the  night  Mr.  Murray  gave  her 
the  roll  of  MS.,  and  the  strongest  temptation  of  her  life  here 
assailed  her.  She  would  almost  have  given  her  right  hand 
to  know  the  contents  of  that  letter,  and  Mr.  Murray's  con 
fident  assertion  concerning  the  package  was  now  fully  ex 
plained.  He  had  recognized  the  handwriting  on  her  letters, 
and  suspected  her  ambitious  scheme.  He  was  not  a  stranger 
to  Mr.  Manning,  and  must  have  known  the  nature  of  their 
correspondence;  consequently  his  taunt  about  a  lover  was 
entirely  ironical. 

She  turned  the  unsealed  envelope  over  and  over  longing 
to  know  what  it  contained. 

The  house  was  deserted — there  was,  she  knew,  no  human 
being  nearer  than  the  kitchen,  and  no  eye  but  God's  upon 
her.  She  looked  once  more  at  the  superscription  of  the  let 
ter,  sighed,  and  put  it  back  into  the  book  without  opening 
the  envelope. 

She  copied  into  her  note-book  the  reference  she  was  seek 
ing,  and  replacing  the  volume  on  the  window-sill  where  she 
had  found  it,  went  back  to  her  own  room  and  tried  to  banish 
the  subject  of  the  letter  from  her  mind. 

After  all,  it  was  not  probable  that  Mr.  Murray  had  ever 
mentioned  her  name  to  his  correspondent ;  and  as  she  had 
not  alluded  to  Le  Bocage  or  its  inmates  in  writing  to  Mr. 
Manning,  St.  Elmo's  hints  concerning  her  MS.  were  merely 
based  on  conjecture.  She  felt  as  if  she  would  rather  face 
any  other  disaster  sooner  than  have  him  scoffing  at  her 
daring  project;  and  more  annoyed  and  puzzled  than  she 


ST.  ELMO.  211 

chose  to  confess,  she  resolutely  bent  her  thoughts  upon  her 
work. 

It  was  almost  dusk  before  Mrs.  Murray  and  her  guests 
returned ;  and  when  it  grew  so  dark  that  Edna  could  not  see 
the  lines  of  her  paper,  she  smoothed  her  hair,  changed  her 
dress,  and  went  down  to  the  parlor. 

Mrs.  Murray  was  resting  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  fanning 
herself  vigorously,  and  Mr.  Allston  smoked  on  the  veranda, 
and  talked  to  her  through  the  open  window. 

"Well,  Edna,  where  have  you  been  all  day?" 

"With  my  books." 

"I  am  tired  almost  to  death!  This  country  visiting  is  an 
intolerable  bore !  I  am  worn  out  with  small  talk  and  back 
biting.  Society  nowadays  is  composed  of  cannibals — in 
finitely  more  to  be  dreaded  than  the  Fijians — who  only  de 
vour  the  body  and  leave  the  character  of  an  individual  intact. 
Child,  let  us  have  some  music  by  way  of  variety.  Play  that 
symphony  of  Beethoven  that  I  heard  you  practicing  last 
week." 

She  laid  her  head  on  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  and  shut  her 
eyes,  and  Edna  opened  the  piano  and  played  the  piece  desig 
nated. 

The  delicacy  of  her  touch  enabled  her  to  render  it  with 
peculiar  pathos  and  power ;  and  she  played  on  and  on,  un 
mindful  of  Miss  Harding's  entrance — oblivious  of  every 
thing  but  the  sublime  strains  of  the  great  master. 

The  light  streamed  over  her  face,  and  showed  a  gladness, 
an  exaltation  of  expression  there,  as  if  her  soul  had  broken 
from  its  earthly  moorings,  and  was  making  its  way  joy 
fully  into  the  infinite  sea  of  eternal  love  and  blessedness. 

At  last  her  fingers  fell  from  the  keys,  and  as  she  rose  she 
saw  Mr.  Murray  standing  outside  of  the  parlor  door,  with 
his  fingers  shading  his  eyes. 

He  came  in  soon  after,  and  his  mother  held  out  her  hand, 
saying: 

"Here  is  a  seat,  my  son.    Have  you  just  returned?" 

"No,  I  have  been  here  some  time." 

"How  are  affairs  at  the  plantation?" 

"I  really  have  no  idea." 

"Why?   I  thought  you  went  there  to-day." 


212  ST.  ELMO. 

"I  started;  but  found  my  horse  so  lame  that  I  went  no 
further  than  town." 

"Indeed !  Hagar  told  me  you  had  not  returned,  when  I 
came  in  from  visiting." 

"Like  some  other  people  of  my  acquaintance,  Hagar  reck 
ons  without  her  host.  I  have  been  at  home  ever  since  twelve 
o'clock,  and  saw  the  carriage  as  you  drove  off." 

"And  pray  how  have  you  employed  yourself,  you  incor 
rigible  ignis  fatuusf  O  my  cousin !  you  are  well  named. 
Aunt  Ellen  must  have  had  an  intuitive  insight  into  your 
character  when  she  had  you  christened  St.  Elmo ;  only  she 

should  have  added  the  'Fire '  How  have  you  spent  the 

day,  sir?" 

"Most  serenely  and  charmingly,  my  fair  cousin,  in  the 
solitude  of  my  den.  If  my  mother  could  give  me  satisfac 
tory  security  that  all  my  days  would  prove  as  quiet  and 
happy  as  this  has  been,  I  would  enter  into  bonds  never  to 
quit  the  confines  of  Le  Bocage  again.  Ah!  the  indescrib 
able  relief  of  feeling  that  nothing  was  expected  of  me;  that 
the  galling  gyves  of  hospitality  and  etiquette  were  snapped, 
and  that  I  was  entirely  free  from  all  danger  of  intrusion. 
This  day  shall  be  marked  with  a  white  stone;  for  I  entered 
my  rooms  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  remained  there  in  uninter 
rupted  peace  till  five  minutes  ago ;  when  I  put  on  my  social 
shackles  once  more,  and  hobbled  down  to  entertain  my  fair 
guest." 

Edna  was  arranging  some  sheets  of  music  that  were  scat 
tered  on  the  piano;  but  as  he  mentioned  the  hour  of  his 
return,  she  remembered  that  the  clock  struck  one  just  as  she 
went  into  the  sitting-room  where  he  kept  his  books  and 
cabinets ;  and  she  knew  now  that  he  was  at  that  very  time  in 
the  inner  room,  beyond  the  arch.  She  put  her  hand  to  her 
forehead,  and  endeavored  to  recollect  the  appearance  of  the 
apartment.  The  silk  curtains,  she  was  sure,  were  hanging 
over  the  arch ;  for  she  remembered  distinctly  having  noticed 
a  large  and  very  beautiful  golden  butterfly  which  had  flut 
tered  in  from  the  terrace,  and  was  flitting  over  the  glowing 
folds  that  fell  from  the  carved  intrados  to  the  marble  floor. 
But  though  screened  from  her  view,  he  must  have  heard 
and  seen  her,  as  she  sat  before  his  book-case,  turning  his 
letter  curiously  between  her  fingers. 


ST.  ELMO.  213 

She  dared  not  look  up,  and  bent  down  to  examine  the 
music,  so  absorbed  in  her  own  emotions  of  chagrin  and 
astonishment,  that  she  heard  not  one  word  of  what  Miss 
Harding  was  saying.  She  felt  well  assured  that  if  Mr. 
Murray  were  cognizant  of  her  visit  to  the  "Egyptian  mu 
seum,"  he  intended  her  to  know  it,  and  she  knew  that  his 
countenance  would  solve  her  painful  doubt. 

Gathering  up  her  courage,  she  raised  her  eyes  quickly  in 
the  direction  of  the  sofa,  where  he  had  thrown  himself,  and 
met  just  what  she  most  dreaded,  his  keen  gaze  riveted  on 
her  face.  Evidently  he  had  been  waiting  for  this  eager, 
startling,  questioning  glance;  for  instantly  he  smiled,  in 
clined  his  head  slightly,  and  arched  his  eyebrows,  as  if 
much  amused.  Never  before  had  she  seen  his  face  so  bright 
and  happy,  so  free  from  bitterness.  If  he  had  said,  "Yes, 
I  saw  you ;  are  you  not  thoroughly  discomfited,  and  ashamed 
of  your  idle  curiosity?  What  interest  can  you  possibly  have 
in  carefully  studying  the  outside  of  my  letters?  How  do 
you  propose  to  mend  matters?" — he  could  not  have  more 
fully  conveyed  his  meaning.  Edna's  face  crimsoned,  and 
she  put  up  her  hand  to  shield  it;  but  Mr.  Murray  turned 
toward  the  window,  and  coolly  discussed  the  merits  of  a 
popular  race-horse,  upon  which  Clinton  Allston  lavished  ex 
travagant  praise. 

Estelle  leaned  against  the  window,  listening  to  the  con 
troversy,  and  after  a  time,  when  the  subject  seemed  very 
effectually  settled  by  an  oath  from  the  master  of  the  house, 
Edna  availed  herself  of  the  lull  in  the  conversation  to  deliver 
the  letter. 

"Miss  Harding,  I  was  requested  to  hand  you  this." 

Estelle  broke  the  seal,  glanced  rapidly  over  the  letter  and 
exclaimed : 

"Is  it  possible?  Can  she  be  here?  Who  gave  you  this 
letter?" 

"Mrs.  Powell,  Mr.  Hammond's  niece." 

"Agnes  Powell?" 

"Yes.     Agnes  Powell." 

During  the  next  three  minutes  one  might  have  distinctly 
heard  a  pin  fall,  for  the  ticking  of  two  watches  was  very 
audible. 

Estelle  glanced  first  at  her  cousin,  then  at  her  aunt,  then 


214  ST-  ELMO. 

back  at  her  cousin.  Mrs.  Murray  involuntarily  laid  her 
hand  on  her  son's  knee,  and  watched  his  face  with  an  ex 
pression  of  breathless  anxiety;  and  Edna  saw  that,  though 
his  lips  blanched,  not  a  muscle  moved,  not  a  nerve  twitched ; 
and  only  the  deadly  hate,  that  appeared  to  leap  into  his  large 
shadowy  eyes,  told  that  the  name  stirred  some  bitter  mem 
ory. 

The  silence  was  growing  intolerable  when  Mr.  Murray 
turned  his  gaze  full  on  Estelle,  and  said  in  his  usual  sar 
castic  tone : 

"Have  you  seen  a  ghost?  Your  letter  must  contain  tidings 
of  Victor's  untimely  demise;  for,  if  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  retribution,  such  a  personage  as  Nemesis,  I  swear  that 
poor  devil  of  a  Count  has  crept  into  her  garments  and  come 
to  haunt  you.  Did  he  cut  his  white  womanish  throat  with 
a  penknife,  or  smother  himself  with  charcoal  fumes,  or  light 
a  poisoned  candle  and  let  his  poor  homoeopathic  soul  drift 
out  dreamily  into  eternity?  If  so,  Gabriel  will  require  a 
powerful  microscope  to  find  him.  Notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  you  destined  him  for  my  cousin,  the  little  curly 
creature  always  impressed  me  as  being  a  stray  specimen  of 
an  otherwise  extinct  type  of  intellectual  Lacrymatoria.  Is 
he  really  dead?  Peace  to  his  infusorial  soul!  Who  had  the 
courage  to  write  and  break  the  melancholy  tidings  to  you? 
Or  perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  only  the  ghost  of  your  own  con 
science  that  has  brought  that  scared  look  into  your  face." 

She  laughed  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"How  insanely  jealous  you  are  of  Victor!  He's  neither 
dead  nor  dreaming  of  suicide,  but  enjoying  himself  vastly 
in  Baden-Baden.  Edna,  did  Mrs.  Powell  bring  Gertrude 
with  her  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  know  how  long  she  intends  remaining  at  the 
parsonage  ?" 

"I  think  her  visit  i*  of  indefinite  duration." 

"Edna,  will  you  oblige  me  by  inquiring  whether  Henry 
intends  to  give  us  any  supper  to-night  ?  He  forgets  we  have 
had  no  dinner.  St.  Elmo,  do  turn  down  that  gas — the  wind 
makes  it  flare  dreadfully." 

Edna  left  the  room  to  obey  Mrs.  Murray's  command,  and 


ST.  ELMO.  215 

did  not  return  immediately;  but,  after  the  party  seated 
themselves  at  the  table,  she  noticed  that  the  master  seemed 
in  unusually  high  spirits ;  and  when  the  meal  was  concluded, 
he  challenged  his  cousins  to  a  game  of  billiards. 

They  repaired  to  the  rotunda,  and  Mrs.  Murray  beck 
oned  to  Edna  to  follow  her.  As  they  entered  her  apart 
ment  she  carefully  closed  the  door. 

"Edna,  when  did  Mrs.  Powell  arrive?" 

"Last  night." 

"Did  you  see  her?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Is  she  very  pretty?" 

"She  is  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  ever  met." 

"How  did  Mr.  Hammond  receive  her?" 

"Her  visit  evidently  annoys  him,  but  he  gave  me  no 
explanation  of  the  matter,  which  I  confess  puzzles  me.  I 
should  suppose  her  society  would  cheer  and  interest  him." 

"Oh,  pooh!  Talk  of  what  you  understand.  She  surely 
has  not  come  here  to  live  ?" 

"I  think  he  fears  she  has.     She  is  very  poor." 

Mrs.  Murray  set  her  teeth  together  and  muttered  some 
thing  which  her  companion  did  not  understand. 

"Edna,  is  she  handsomer  than  Estelle?" 

"Infinitely  handsomer,  I  think.  Indeed,  they  are  so 
totally  unlike  it  would  be  impossible  to  compare  them.  Your 
niece  is  very  fine-looking,  very  commanding;  Mrs.  Powell 
is  beautiful." 

"But  she  is  no  longer  young.    She  has  a  grown  daughter." 

"True ;  but  in  looking  at  her  you  do  not  realize  it.  Did 
you  never  see  her?" 

"No ;  and  I  trust  I  never  may !  I  am  astonished  that  Mr. 
Hammond  can  endure  the  sight  of  her.  You  say  he  has 
told  you  nothing  about  her?" 

"Nothing  which  explains  the  chagrin  her  presence  seems 
to  cause." 

"He  is  very  wise.  But,  Edna,  avoid  her  society  as  much 
as  possible.  She  is  doubtless  very  fascinating;  but  I  do 
not  like  what  I  have  heard  of  her,  and  prefer  that  you 
should  have  little  conversation  or  intercourse  with  her.  On 
the  whole,  you  might  as  well  stay  at  home  now;  it  is  very 


216  ST.  ELMO. 

warm,  and  you  can  study  without  Mr.  Hammond's  assist 
ance." 

"You  do  not  mean  that  my  visits  must  cease  altogether  ?" 

"Oh!  no;  go  occasionally — once  or  twice  a  week — but 
certainly  not  every  day,  as  formerly.  And,  Edna,  be  care 
ful  not  to  mention  that  woman's  name  again;  I  dislike  her 
exceedingly." 

The  orphan  longed  to  ask  for  an  explanation,  but  was  too 
proud  to  solicit  confidence  so  studiously  withheld. 

Mrs.  Murray  leaned  back  in  her  large  rocking-chair  and 
fell  into  a  reverie.  Edna  waited  patiently  for  some  time, 
and  finally  rose. 

"Mrs.  Murray,  have  you  anything  more  to  say  to  me  to 
night?  You  look  very  much  fatigued!" 

"Nothing,  I  believe.  Good-night,  child.  Send  Hagar  to 
me." 

Edna  went  back  to  her  desk  and  resolutely  turned  to  her 
work;  for  it  was  one  of  the  peculiar  traits  of  her  character 
that  she  could  at  will  fasten  her  thoughts  upon  whatever 
subject  she  desired  to  master.  All  irrelevant  ideas  were 
sternly  banished  until  such  season  as  she  chose  to  give  them 
audience ;  and  to-night  she  tore  her  mind  from  the  events 
of  the  day,  and  diligently  toiled  among  the  fragments  of 
Scandinavian  lore  for  the  missing  links  in  her  mythologic 
chain. 

Now  and  then  peals  of  laughter  from  the  billiard-room 
startled  her;  and  more  than  once  Mr.  Murray's  clear,  cold 
voice  rose  above  the  subdued  chatter  of  Estelle  and  Clinton. 

After  a  while  the  game  ended,  good-nights  were  ex 
changed,  the  party  dispersed,  doors  were  closed,  and  all 
grew  silent. 

While  Edna  wrote  on,  an  unexpected  sound  arrested  her 
pen.  She  listened,  and  heard  the  slow  walk  of  a  horse  be 
neath  her  window.  As  it  passed  she  rose  and  looked  out. 
The  moon  was  up,  and  Mr.  Murray  was  riding  down  the 
avenue. 

The  girl  returned  to  her  MS.,  and  worked  on  without  in 
termission  for  another  hour;  then  the  last  paragraph  was 
carefully  punctuated,  the  long  and  difficult  chapter  was 
finished.  She  laid  aside  her  pen,  and  locked  her  desk. 


ST.  ELMO.  217 

Shaking  down  the  mass  of  hair  that  had  been  tightly 
coiled  at  the  back  of  her  head,  she  extinguished  the  light, 
and  drawing  a  chair  to  the  window,  seated  herself. 

Silence  and  peace  brooded  over  the  world;  not  a  sound 
broke  the  solemn  repose  of  nature. 

The  summer  breeze  had  rocked  itself  to  rest  in  the  elm 
boughs,  and  only  the  waning  moon  seemed  alive  and  toiling 
as  it  climbed  slowly  up  a  cloudless  sky.  passing  starry  senti 
nels  whose  mighty  challenge  was  lost  in  vast  vortices  of 
blue,  as  they  paced  their  ceaseless  round  in  the  mighty  camp 
of  constellations. 

With  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  gloomy,  groined  archway  of 
elms,  where  an  occasional  slip  of  moonshine  silvered  the 
ground,  Edna  watched  and  waited.  The  blood  beat  heavily 
in  her  temples  and  throbbed  sullenly  at  her  heart;  but  she 
sat  mute  and  motionless  as  the  summer  night,  reviewing 
all  that  had  occurred  during  the  day. 

Presently  the  distant  sound  of  hoofs  on  the  rocky  road 
leading  to  town  fell  upon  her  strained  ear;  the  hard,  quick 
gallop  ceased  at  the  gate,  and  very  slowly  Mr.  Murray 
walked  his  horse  up  the  dusky  avenue,  and  on  toward  the 
stable. 

From  the  shadow  of  her  muslin  curtain,  Edna  looked 
down  on  the  walk  beneath,  and  after  a  few  moments  saw 
him  coming  to  the  house. 

He  paused  on  the  terrace,  took  off  his  hat,  swept  back 
the  thick  hair  from  his  forehead,  and  stood  looking  out  over 
the  quiet  lawn. 

Then  a  heavy,  heavy  sigh,  almost  a  moan,  seemed  to 
burst  from  the  depths  of  his  heart,  and  he  turned  and  went 
into  the  house. 

The  night  was  far  spent,  and  the  moon  had  cradled  her 
self  on  the  tree-tops,  when  Edna  raised  her  face  all  blistered 
with  tears.  Stretching  out  her  arms  she  fell  on  her  knees, 
while  a  passionate,  sobbing  prayer  struggled  brokenly  across 
her  trembling  lips: 

"O  my  God !  have  mercy  upon  him !  save  his  wretched 
soul  from  eternal  death!  Help  me  so  to  live  and  govern 
myself  that  I  bring  no  shame  on  the  cause  of  Christ.  And 
if  it  be  thy  will,  O  my  God!  grant  that  I  may  be  instru- 


2l8  ST.  ELMO. 

mental  in  winning  this  precious  but  wandering,  sinful  soul 
back  to  the  faith  as  it  is  in  Jesus !" 
Ah!  verily — 

.    .    .    .    "  More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 

Than  this  world  dreams  of.    Wherefore  let  thy  voice 

Rise  like  a  fountain  for  him  night  and  day. 

For  what  are  men  better  than  sheep  or  goats, 

That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  brain, 

If,  knowing  God.  they  lift  not  hands  of  prayer 

Both  for  themselves,  and  those  who  call  them  friend?" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"WHERE  are  you  going,  St.  Elmo?  I  know  it  is  one  of 
your  amiable  decrees  that  your  movements  are  not  to  be 
questioned,  but  I  dare  to  brave  your  ire." 

"I  am  going  to  that  blessed  retreat  familiarly  known  as 
'Murray's  den/  where,  secure  from  feminine  intrusion,  as 
if  in  the  cool  cloisters  of  Coutloumoussi,  I  surrender  my 
happy  soul  to  science  and  cigars,  and  revel  in  complete  for- 
getfulness  of  that  awful  curse  which  Jove  hurled  against 
all  mankind,  because  of  Prometheus's  robbery." 

"There  are  asylums  for  lunatics  and  inebriates,  and  I 
wonder  it  has  never  occurred  to  some  benevolent  million 
aire  to  found  one  for  such  abominable  cynics  as  you,  my 
most  angelic  cousin!  where  the  snarling  brutes  can  only 
snap  at  and  worry  one  another." 

"An  admirable  idea,  Estelle,  which  I  fondly  imagined  I 
had  successfully  carried  out  when  I  built  those  rooms  of 
mine." 

"You  are  as  hateful  as  Momus,  minus  his  wit!  He  was 
kicked  out  of  heaven  for  grumbling,  and  you  richly  deserve 
his  fate." 

"I  have  a  vague  recollection  that  the  Goddess  Discord 
shared  the  fate  of  the  celestial  growler.  I  certainly  plead 
guilty  to  an  earnest  sympathy  with  Momus's  dissatisfaction 
with  the  house  that  Minerva  built,  and  only  wish  that  mine 
was  movable,  as  he  recommended,  in  order  to  escape  bad 
neighborhoods  and  tiresome  companions." 

"Hospitable,  upon  my  word !  You  spin  some  spiteful  idea 
out  of  every  sentence  I  utter  and  are  not  even  entitled  to 
the  compliment  which  Chesterfield  paid  to  old  Samuel  John 
son,  'The  utmost  I  can  do  for  him  is  to  consider  him  a  re 
spectable  Hottentot.'  If  I  did  not  know  that  instead  of 
proving  a  punishment  it  would  gratify  you  beyond  meas 
ure,  I  would  take  a  vow  not  to  speak  to  you  again  for  a 
month;  but  the  consciousness  of  the  happiness  I  should 

[219] 


220  ST.  ELMO. 

thereby  bestow  upon  you,  vetoes  the  resolution.  Do  you 
know  that  even  a  Comanche  chief,  or  a  Bechuana  of  the 
desert,  shames  your  inhospitality  ?  I  assure  you  I  am  the 
victim  of  hopeless  ennui,  am  driven  to  the  verge  of  despera 
tion  ;  for  Mr.  Allston  will  probably  not  return  until  to-mor 
row,  and  it  is  raining  so  hard  that  I  can  not  wander  out  of 
doors.  Here  I  am  shut  up  in  this  dreary  house,  which  re 
minds  me  of  the  descriptions  of  that  doleful  retreat  for  sin 
ners  in  Normandy,  where  the  inmates  pray  eleven  hours  a 
day,  dig  their  own  graves  every  evening,  and  if  they  chance 
to  meet  one  another,  salute  each  other  with  'Memento  mori!' 
Ugh!  if  there  remains  one  latent  spark  of  chivalry  in  your 
soul,  I  beseech  you  be  merciful!  Do  not  go  off  to  your 
den,  but  stay  here  and  entertain  me.  It  is  said  that  you  read 
bewitchingly,  and  with  unrivalled  effect;  pray  favor  me  this 
morning.  I  will  promise  to  lay  my  hand  on  my  lips;  it  is 
not  white  enough  for  a  flag  of  truce?  I  will  be  meek,  ami 
able,  docile,  absolutely  silent." 

Estelle  swept  aside  a  mass  of  papers  from  the  corner  of 
the  sofa,  and,  taking  Mr.  Murray's  hand,  drew  him  to  a 
seat  beside  her. 

"Your  'amiable  silence,'  my  fair  cousin,  is  but  a  cunningly 
fashioned  wooden  horse.  Timco  Danaos  et  dona  ferentes! 
I  am  to  understand  that  you  actually  offer  me  your  hand  as 
a  flag  of  truce?  It  is  wonderfully  white  and  pretty;  but 
excuse  me,  C'est  une  main  de  fer,  gantee  de  velours!  Your 
countenance,  so  serenely  radiant,  reminds  me  of  what  Mad 
ame  Noblet  said  of  M.  de  Vitri,  'His  fa&e  looked  just  like  a 
stratagem!'  Reading  aloud  is  a  practiqp  in  which  I  never 
indulge,  simply  because  I  cordially  det|st  it,  and  knowing 
this  fact,  it  is  a  truly  feminine  refinement  of  cruelty  on  your 
part  to  select  this  mode  of  penance.  Nevertheless,  your  ap 
peal  to  my  chivalry,  which  always  springs  up,  armed  cap-a- 
pie  'to  do  or  die';  and  since  read  I  must,  I  only  stipulate 
that  I  may  be  allowed  to  select  my  book.  Just  now  I  am 
profoundly  interested  in  a  French  work  on  infusoria,  by 
Dujardin ;  and  as  you  have  probably  not  studied  it,  I  will 
select  those  portions  which  treat  of  the  animalcula  that 
inhabit  grains  of  sugar  and  salt  and  drops  of  water ;  so  that 
by  the  time  lunch  is  ready,  your  appetite  will  be  whetted  by 
a  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  your  repast.  According  to 


ST.  ELMO.  221 

Leeuwenhoek,  Miiller,  Gleichen,  and  others,  the  campaigns 
of  Zenzis-Khan,  Alexander,  Attila,  were  not  half  so  mur 
derous  as  a  single  fashionable  dinner;  and  the  battle  of 
Marengo  was  a  farce  in  comparison  with  the  swallowing 
of  a  cup  of  tea,  which  contains " 

"For  shame,  you  tormentor !  when  you  know  that  I  love 
tea  as  well  as  did  your  model  of  politeness,  Dr.  Johnson ! 
Not  one  line  of  all  that  nauseating  scientific  stuff  shall  you 
read  to  me.  Here  is  a  volume  of  poems  of  the  'Female 
Poets' ;  do  be  agreeable  for  once  in  your  life,  and  select  me 
some  sweet  little  rhythmic  gem  of  Mrs.  Browning,  or  Mrs. 
Norton,  or  L.  E.  L." 

"Estelle,  did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Peishwah  of  the  Mahr- 
attas?" 

"I  most  assuredly  never  had  even  a  hint  of  a  syllable  on 
the  subject.  What  of  him,  or  her,  or  it?" 

"Enough,  that  though  you  are  evidently  ambitious  of 
playing  his  despotic  role  at  Le  Bocage,  you  will  never  suc 
ceed  in  reducing  me  to  that  condition  of  abject  subjugation 
necessary  to  make  me  endure  the  perusal  of  'female  poetry.' 
I  have  always  desired  an  opportunity  of  voting  my  cordial 
thanks  to  the  wit  who  expressed  so  felicitously  my  own 
thorough  conviction,  that  Pegasus  had  an  unconquerable  re 
pugnance,  hatred,  to  side-saddles.  You  vow  you  will  not 
listen  to  science ;  and  I  swear  I  won't  read  poetry !  Sup 
pose  we  compromise  on  this  new  number  of  the  

Magazine?  It  is  the  ablest  periodical  published  in  this 
country.  Let  me  see  the  contents  of  this  number." 

It  was  a  dark,  rainy  morning  in  July.  Mrs.  Murray  was 
winding  a  quantity  of  zephyr  wool,  of  various  bright  colors, 
which  she  had  requested  Edna  to  hold  on  her  wrists;  and 
at  the  mention  of  the  magazine  the  latter  looked  up  sud 
denly  at  the  master  of  the  house. 

Holding  his  cigar  between  his  thumb  and  third  finger, 
his  eye  ran  over  the  table  of  contents. 

"'Who  smote  the  Marble  Gods  of  Greece?'  Humph! 
rather  a  difficult  question  to  answer  after  the  lapse  of 
twenty-two  centuries.  But  doubtless  our  archaeologists  are 
so  muck  wiser  than  the  Athenian  Senate  of  Five  Hundred, 
who  investigated  the  affair  the  day  after  it  happened,  that 
a  perusal  will  be  exceedingly  edifying.  Now,  then,  for  a 


222  ST.  ELMO. 

solution  of  this  classic  mystery  of  the  nocturnal  iconoclasm; 
which,  in  my  humble  opinion,  only  the  brazen  lips  of  Min 
erva  Promachus  could  satisfactorily  explain." 

Turning  to  the  article  he  read  it  aloud,  without  pausing 
to  comment,  while  Edna's  heart  bounded  so  rapidly  that  she 
could  scarcely  conceal  her  agitation.  It  was,  indeed,  a  treat 
to  listen  to  him ;  and  as  his  musical  voice  filled  the  room, 
she  thought  of  Jean  Paul  Richter's  description  of  Goethe's 
reading:  "There  is  nothing  comparable  to  it.  It  is  like 
deep-toned  thunder  blended  with  whispering  rain-drops." 

But  the  orphan's  pleasure  was  of  short  duration,  and  as 
Mr.  Murray  concluded  the  perusal,  he  tossed  the  magazine 
contemptuously  across  the  room,  and  exclaimed: 

"Pretentious  and  shallow !  A  tissue  of  pedantry  and  error 
from  beginning  to  end — written,  I  will  wager  my  head,  by 
some  scribbler  who  never  saw  Athens !  Moreover,  the  whole 
article  is  based  upon  a  glaring  blunder;  for,  according  to 
Plutarch  and  Diodorus,  on  the  memorable  night  in  question 
there  was  a  new  moon.  Pshaw !  it  is  a  tasteless,  insipid 
plagiarism  from  Grote;  and  if  I  am  to  be  bored  with  such 
insufferable  twaddle,  I  will  stop  my  subscription.  For  some 
time  I  have  noticed  symptoms  of  deterioration,  but  this  is 
altogether  intolerable;  and  I  shall  write  to  Manning  that,  if 
he  cannot  do  better,  it  would  be  advisable  for  him  to  sus 
pend  at  once  before  his  magazine  loses  its  reputation.  If 
I  were  not  aware  that  his  low  estimate  of  female  intellect 
coincides  fully  with  my  own,  I  should  be  tempted  to  sup 
pose  that  some  silly  but  ambitious  woman  wrote  that  stuff, 
which  sounds  learned  and  is  simply  stupid." 

He  did  not  even  glance  toward  Edna,  but  the  peculiar 
emphasis  of  his  words  left  no  doubt  in  her  mind  that  he 
suspected,  nay,  felt  assured,  that  she  was  the  luckless  author. 
Raising  her  head  which  had  been  drooped  over  the  woolen 
skeins,  she  said,  firmly,  yet  very  quietly : 

"If  you  will  permit  me  to  differ  with  you,  Mr.  Murray, 
I  will  say  that  it  seems  to  me  all  the  testimony  is  in  favor 
of  the  full-moon  theory.  Beside,  Grote  is  the  latest  and 
best  authority;  he  has  carefully  collected  and  sifted  the  evi 
dence,  and  certainly  sanctions  the  position  taken  by  the 
author  of  the  article  which  you  condemn." 

"Ah!  how  long  since  you  investigated  the  matter?    The 


ST.  ELMO.  223 

affair  is  so  essentially  Paganish  that  I  should  imagine  that 
it  possessed  no  charm  for  so  orthodox  a  Christian  as  your 
self.  Estelle,  what  say  you  concerning  this  historic 
sphinx  ?" 

"That  I  am  blissfully  ignorant  of  the  whole  question,  and 
have  a  vague  impression  that  it  is  not  worth  the  paper  it  is 
written  on,  much  less  a  quarrel  with  you,  Monsieur  'Le 
Hutin' ;  that  it  is  the  merest  matter  of  moonshine — new 
moon  versus  full  moon,  and  must  have  been  written  by  a 
lunatic.  But,  my  Chevalier  Bayard,  one  thing  I  do  intend 
to  say  most  decidedly,  and  that  is,  that  your  lunge  at  female 
intellect  was  as  unnecessary  and  ill-timed  and  ill-bred  as  it 
was  ill-natured.  The  mental  equality  of  the  sexes  is  now 
as  unquestioned,  as  universally  admitted,  as  any  other  well- 
established  fact  in  science  or  history;  and  the  sooner  you 
men  gracefully  concede  us  our  rights,  the  sooner  we  shall 
cease  wrangling,  and  settle  back  into  our  traditional  amia 
bility." 

"The  universality  of  the  admission  I  should  certainly 
deny,  were  the  subject  of  sufficient  importance  to  justify  a 
discussion.  However,  I  have  been  absent  so  long  from 
America,  that  I  confess  my  ignorance  of  the  last  social  ad 
vance  in  the  striding  enlightenment  of  this  most  progressive 
people.  According  to  Moleschott's  celebrated  dictum — 
'Without  phosphorus  no  thought,'  and  if  there  be  any  truth 
in  physiology  and  phrenology,  you  women  have  been  stinted 
by  nature  in  the  supply  of  phosphorus.  Peacock's  measure 
ments  prove  that  in  the  average  weight  of  male  and  female 
brains,  you  fall  below  our  standard  by  not  less  than  six 
ounces.  I  should  conjecture  that  in  the  scales  of  equality 
six  ounces  of  ideas  would  turn  the  balance  in  favor  of  our 
superiority." 

"If  you  reduce  it  to  a  mere  question  of  avoirdupois,  please 
be  so  good  as  to  remember  that  even  greater  differences 
exist  among  men.  For  instance,  your  brain  (which  is  cer 
tainly  not  considered  over  average)  weighs  from  three  to 
three  and  a  half  pounds,  while  Cuvier's  brain  weighed  over 
four  pounds,  giving  him  the  advantage  of  more  than  eight 
ounces  over  our  household  oracle !  Accidental  difference  in 
brain  weight  proves  nothing;  for  you  will  not  admit  your 


224  ST.  ELMO. 

mental  inferiority  to  any  man,  simply  because  his  head  re 
quires  a  larger  hat  than  yours." 

"Pardon  me,  I  always  bow  before  facts,  no  matter  how 
unflattering,  and  I  consider  one  of  Cuvier's  ideas  worthy 
of  just  exactly  eight  degrees  more  of  reverence  than  any 
phosphorescent  sparkle  which  I  might  choose  to  hold  up  for 
public  acceptance  and  guidance.  Without  doubt,  the  most 
thoroughly  ludicrous  scene  I  ever  witnessed  was  furnished 
by  a  'woman's  rights'  meeting,'  which  I  looked  in  upon  one 
night  in  New  York,  as  I  returned  from  Europe.  The  speaker 
was  a  raw-boned,  wiry,  angular,  short-haired,  lemon-vis- 
aged  female  of  very  certain  age;  with  a  hand  like  a  bronze 
gauntlet,  and  a  voice  as  distracting  as  the  shrill  squeak  of  a 
cracked  cornet-a-piston.  Over  the  wrongs  and  grievances 
of  her  down-trodden,  writhing  sisterhood  she  ranted  and 
raved  and  howled,  gesticulating  the  while  with  a  marvelous 
grace,  which  I  can  compare  only  to  the  antics  of  those  in 
spired  goats  who  strayed  too  near  the  Pythian  cave,  and 
were  thrown  into  convulsions.  Though  I  pulled  my  hat  over 
my  eyes  and  clapped  both  hands  to  my  ears,  as  I  rushed  out 
of  the  hall  after  a  stay  of  five  minutes,  the  vision  of  horror 
followed  me,  and  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  my  life,  I  had 
such  a  hideous  nightmare  that  night,  that  the  man  who  slept 
in  the  next  room  broke  open  my  door  to  ascertain  who  was 
strangling  me.  Of  all  my  pet  aversions  my  most  supreme 
abhorrence  is  of  what  are  denominated  'gifted  women'; 
strong-minded  (that  is,  weak-brained  but  loud-tongued), 
would-be  literary  females,  who,  puffed  up  with  insufferable 
conceit,  imagine  they  rise  to  the  dignity  and  height  of  man's 
intellect,  proclaim  that  their  'mission'  is  to  write  or  lecture, 
and  set  themselves  up  as  shining  female  lights,  each  aspir 
ing  to  the  rank  of  protomartyr  of  reform.  Heaven  grant 
us  a  Bellerophon  to  relieve  the  age  of  these  noisy  Amazons! 
I  should  really  enjoy  seeing  them  tied  down  to  their  spin 
ning-wheels,  and  gagged  with  their  own  books,  magazines, 
and  lectures!  When  I  was  abroad  and  contrasted  the  land 
of  my  birth  with  those  I  visited,  the  only  thing  for  which, 
as  an  American,  I  felt  myself  called  on  to  blush,  was  my 
country-women.  An  insolent  voung  count  who  had  trav 
eled  through  the  Eastern  and  Northern  States  of  America, 
asked  me  one  day  in  Berlin,  if  it  were  really  true  that  the 


ST.  ELMO.  225 

male  editors,  lawyers,  doctors  and  lecturers  in  the  United 
States  were  contemplating  a  hegira,  in  consequence  of  the 
rough  elbowing  by  the  women,  and  if  I  could  inform  him 
at  what  age  the  New  England  girls  generally  commenced 
writing  learned  articles,  and  affixing  LL.D.,  F.E.S.,  F.S.A., 
and  M.M.S.S.  to  their  signature?" 

"  'Lay  on,  Macduff!'  I  wish  you  distinctly  to  understand 
that  my  toes  are  not  bruised  in  the  slightest  degree;  for  I 
am  entirely  innocent  of  any  attempt  at  erudition  or  author 
ship,  and  the  sole  literary  dream  of  my  life  is  to  improve  the 
present  popular  recipe  for  biscuit  glace.  But  mark  you, 
'Sir  Oracle,'  I  must  'ope  my  lips'  and  bark  a  little  under 
my  breath  at  your  inconsistencies.  Now,  if  there  are  two 
living  men  whom,  above  all  others,  you  swear  by,  they  are 
John  Stuart  Mill  and  John  Ruskin.  Well  do  I  recollect  your 
eulogy  of  both,  on  that  ever-memorable  day  in  Paris,  when 

we  dined  with  that  French  encyclopaedia,  Count  W , 

and  the  leading  lettered  men  of  the  day  were  discussed.  I 
was  frightened  out  of  my  wits,  and  dared  not  raise  my 
eyes  higher  than  the  top  of  my  wineglass,  lest  I  should  be 
asked  my  opinion  of  some  book  or  subject  of  which  I  had 
never  even  heard,  and  in  trying  to  appear  well-educated, 
make  as  horrible  a  blunder  as  poor  Madame  Talleyrand  com 
mitted,  when  she  talked  to  Denon  about  his  man  Friday,  be 
lieving  that  he  wrote  'Robinson  Crusoe.'  At  that  time  I 
had  never  read  either  Mill  or  Ruskin;  but  my  profound 
reverence  for  the  wisdom  of  your  opinions  taught  me  how 
shamefully  ignorant  I  was,  and  thus,  to  fit  myself  for  your 
companionship,  I  immediately  bought  their  books.  Lo,  to 
my  indescribable  amazement,  I  found  that  Mill  claimed  for 
women  what  I  never  once  dreamed  we  were  worthy  of — 
not  only  equality,  but  the  right  of  suffrage.  He,  the  fore 
most  dialectician  of  England  and  the  most  learned  of  politi 
cal  economists,  demands  that,  for  the  sake  of  equity  and 
'social  improvement,'  we  women  (minus  the  required  six 
ounces  of  brains)  should  be  allowed  to  vote.  Behold  the 
Corypheus  of  the  'woman's  rights'  school!  Were  I  to  fol 
low  his  teachings,  I  should  certainly  begin  to  clamor  for  my 
right  of  suffrage — for  the  lady-like  privilege  of  elbowing 
you  away  from  the  ballot-box  at  the  next  election. 

"I  am  quite  as  far  from  admitting  the  infallibility  of  man 


226  ST.  ELMO. 

as  the  equality  of  the  sexes.  The  clearest  thinkers  of  the 
world  have  had  soft  spots  in  their  brains;  for  instance,  the 
daemon  belief  of  Socrates  and  the  ludicrous  superstitions  of 
Pythagoras;  and  you  have  laid  your  finger  on  the  softened 
spot  in  Mill's  skull,  'suffrage.'  That  is  a  jaded,  spavined 
hobby  of  his,  and  he  is  too  shrewd  a  logician  to  involve  him 
self  in  the  inconsistency  of  'extended  suffrage'  which  ex 
cludes  women.  When  I  read  his  'Representative  Govern 
ment'  I  saw  that  his  reason  had  dragged  anchor,  the  pres 
tige  of  his  great  name  vanished,  and  I  threw  the  book  into 
the  fire  and  eschewed  him  henceforth.  Sic  transit." 

Here  Mrs.  Murray  looked  up  and  said : 

"John  Stuart  Mill — let  me  see — Edna,  is  he  not  the  man 
who  wrote  that  touching  dedication  of  one  of  his  books  to 
his  wife's  memory?  You  quoted  it  for  me  a  few  days  ago, 
and  said  that  you  had  committed  it  to  memory  because  it 
was  such  a  glowing  tribute  to  the  intellectual  capacity  of 
woman.  My  dear,  I  wish  you  would  repeat  it  now !  I  should 
like  to  hear  it  again." 

With  her  fingers  full  of  purple  woolen  skeins,  and  her 
eyes  bent  down,  Edna  recited,  in  a  low,  sweet  voice  the  most 
eloquent  panegyric  which  man's  heart  ever  pronounced  on 
woman's  intellect: 

"To  the  beloved  and  deplored  memory  of  her  who  was 
the  inspirer,  and  in  part,  the  author,  of  all  that  is  best  in  my 
writings,  the  friend  and  wife  whose  exalted  sense  of  truth 
and  right  was  my  strongest  incitement,  and  whose  approba 
tion  was  my  chief  reward,  I  dedicate  this  volume.  Like  all 
that  I  have  written  for  many  years,  it  belongs  as  much  to 
her  as  to  me ;  but  the  work  as  it  stands  has  had,  in  a  very  in 
sufficient  degree,  the  inestimable  advantage  of  her  revision; 
some  of  the  most  important  portions  having  been  reserved 
for  a  more  careful  re-examination,  which  they  are  now 
never  destined  to  receive.  Were  I  but  capable  of  inter 
preting  to  the  world  one  half  the  great  thoughts  and  noble 
feelings  which  are  buried  in  her  grave,  I  should  be  the 
medium  of  a  greater  benefit  to  it  than  is  ever  likely  to  arise 
from  anything  that  I  can  write  unprompted  and  unassisted 
by  her  all  but  unrivalled  wisdom." 

"Where  did  you  find  that  dedication?"  asked  Mr.  Mur 
ray. 


ST.  ELMO.  227 

"In  Mill's  book  on  liberty." 

"It  is  not  in  my  library." 

"I  borrowed  it  from  Mr.  Hammond." 

"Strange  that  a  plant  so  noxious  should  be  permitted  in 
such  a  sanctified  atmosphere!  Do  you  happen  to  recollect 
the  following  sentences?  'I  regard  utility  as  the  ultimate 
appeal  on  all  ethical  questions !'  'There  is  a  Greek  ideal  of 
self-development  which  the  Platonic  and  Christian  ideal  of 
self-government  blends  with  but  does  not  supersede.  It 
may  be  better  to  be  a  John  Knox  than  an  Alcibiades,  but  it 
is  better  to  be  a  Pericles  than  either.' " 

"Yes,  sir.  They  occur  in  the  same  book;  but,  Mr.  Mur 
ray,  I  have  been  advised  by  my  teacher  to  bear  always  in 
mind  that  noble  maxim,  'I  can  tolerate  every  thing  else  but 
every  other  man's  intolerance' ;  and  it  is  with  his  consent 
and  by  his  instructions  that  I  go  like  Ruth,  gleaning  in  the 
great  fields  of  literature." 

"Take  care  you  don't  find  Boaz  instead  of  barley.  After 
all,  the  universal  mania  for  match-making  schemes  and 
manceuvers  which  continually  stir  society  from  its  dregs  to 
the  painted  foam-bubble  dancing  on  its  crested  wave,  is 
peculiar  to  no  age  or  condition,  but  is  an  immemorial  and 
hereditary  female  proclivity;  for  I  defy  Paris  or  London  to 
furnish  a  more  perfectly  developed  specimen  of  a  'manoeu 
vring  mamma'  than  was  crafty  Naomi,  when  she  sent  that 
pretty  little  Moabitish  widow  out  husband-hunting." 

"I  heartily  wish  she  was  only  here  to  outwit  you !" 
laughed  his  cousin,  nestling  her  head  against  his  arm  as  they 
sat  together  on  the  sofa. 

"Who?    The  widow  or  the  match-maker?" 

"Oh !  the  match-maker,  of  course.  There  is  more  than 
one  Ruth  already  in  the  field." 

The  last  clause  was  whispered  so  low  that  only  St.  Elmo 
heard  it,  and  any  other  woman  but  Estelle  Harding  would 
have  shrunk  away  in  utter  humiliation  from  the  eye  and 
the  voice  that  answered : 

"Yourself  and  Mrs.  Powell!  Eat  Boaz's  barley  as  long 
as  you  like — nay,  divide  Boaz's  broad  fields  between  you ; 
and  you  love  your  lives,  keep  out  of  Boaz's  way." 

"You  ought  both  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves.    I  am  sur- 


228  ST.  ELMO. 

prised  at  you,  Estelle,  to  encourage  St.  Elmo's  irreverence," 
said  Mrs.  Murray,  severely. 

"I  am  sure,  Aunt  Ellen,  I  am  just  as  much  shocked  as  you 
are ;  but  when  he  does  not  respect  even  your  opinions,  how 
dare  I  presume  to  hope  he  will  show  any  deference  to  mine? 
St.  Elmo,  what  think  you  of  the  last  Sibylline  leaves  of  your 
favorite  Ruskin  ?  In  looking  over  his  new  book,  I  was  sur 
prised  to  find  this  strong  assertion  .  .  .  Here  is  the 
volume  now — listen  to  this,  will  you?" 

;<  'Shakespeare  has  no  heroes ;  he  has  only  heroines.  In 
his  labored  and  perfect  plays  you  find  no  hero,  but  almost 
always  a  perfect  woman ;  steadfast  in  grave  hope  and  error 
less  purpose.  The  catastrophe  of  every  play  is  caused  always 
by  the  folly  or  fault  of  a  man ;  the  redemption,  if  there  be 
any,  is  by  the  wisdom  and  virtue  of  a  woman,  and  failing 
that,  there  is  none !'  " 

"For  instance,  Lady  Macbeth,  Ophelia,  Regan,  Goneril, 
and  last,  but  not  least,  Petruchio's  sweet  and  gentle  Kate! 
De  gustibus!"  answered  Mr.  Murray. 

"Those  are  the  exceptions,  and  of  course  you  pounce  upon 
them.  Ruskin  continues:  'In  all  cases  with  Scott,  as  with 
Shakespeare,  it  is  the  woman  who  watches  over,  teaches  and 
guides  the  youth;  it  is  never  by  any  chance  the  man  who 
watches  over  or  educates  her ;  and  thus '  " 

"Meg  Merrilies,  Madge  Wildfire,  Mause  Headrigg,  Effie 
Deans,  and  Rob  Roy's  freckle- faced,  red-haired,  angelic 
Helen!"  interrupted  her  cousin. 

"Don't  be  rude,  St.  Elmo.  You  fly  in  my  face  like  an 
exasperated  wasp.  I  resume :  'Dante's  great  poem  is  a  song 
of  praise  for  Beatrice's  watch  over  his  soul;  she  saves  him 
from  hell,  and  leads  him  star  by  star  up  into  heaven — 

"Permit  me  to  suggest  that  conjugal  devotion  should  have 
led  him  to  apostrophize  the  superlative  charms  of  his  own 
wife,  Gemma,  from  whom  he  was  forced  to  separate;  and 
that  his  vision  of  hell  was  a  faint  reflex  of  his  domestic 
felicity." 

"Mask  your  battery,  sir,  till  I  finish  this  page,  which  I  am 
resolved  you  shall  hear:  'Greek  literature  proves  the  same 
thing,  as  witness  the  devoted  tenderness  of  Andromache, 
the  wisdom  of  Cassandra,  the  domestic  excellence  of  Pen- 


ST.  ELMO.  229 

elope,  the  love  of  Antigone,  the  resignation  of  Iphigenia, 
the  faithfulness  of '  " 

"Allow  me  to  assist  him  in  completing  the  list :  the  world- 
renowned  constancy  of  Helen  to  Menelaus,  the  devotion  of 
Clytemnestra  to  her  Agamemnon,  the  sublime  filial  affection 
of  Medea,  and  the  bewitching " 

"Hush,  sir !  Aunt  Ellen,  do  call  him  to  order !  I  will  have 
a  hearing,  and  I  close  the  argument  by  the  unanswerable 
assertion  of  Ruskin :  'That  the  Egyptians  and  Greeks  (the 
most  civilized  of  the  ancients)  both  gave  to  their  spirit  of 
wisdom  the  form  of  a  woman,  and  for  symbols,  the  weav 
er's  shuttle  and  the  olive !" 

"An  inevitable  consequence  of  the  fact,  Inat  they  consid 
ered  wisdom  as  synonymous  with  sleepless  and  unscrupu 
lous  cunning!  Schiller  declares  that  'man  depicts  himself  in 
his  gods';  and  even  a  cursory  inspection  of  the  classics 
proves  that  all  the  abhorred  and  hideous  ideas  of  the  ancients 
were  personified  by  woman.  Pluto  was  affable,  and  benefi 
cent,  and  gentlemanly,  in  comparison  will*  Brimo ;  ditto 
might  be  said  of  Loke  and  Hela,  and  the  most  appalling  idea 
that  ever  attacked  the  brain  of  mankind,  found  incarnation 
in  the  Fates  and  Furies,  who  are  always  women.  Unfor 
tunately  the  mythologies  of  the  world  crystallized  before 
the  age  of  chivalry,  and  a  little  research  will  establish  the 
unflattering  fact  that  human  sins  and  woes  are  traced  pri 
marily  to  female  agency ;  while  it  is  patent  that  all  the  rows 
and  squabbles  that  disgraced  Olympus  were  stirred  up  by 
scheming  goddesses !" 

"Thank  heaven!  here  comes  Mr.  Allston;  I  can  smooth 
the  ruffled  plumes  of  my  self-love  in  his  sunny  smiles,  and 
forget  your  growls.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Allston ;  what 
happy  accident  brought  you  again  so  soon  to  Le  Bocage  and 
its  disconsolate  inmates?" 

Edna  picked  up  the  magazine  which  lay  in  one  corner, 
and  made  her  escape. 

The  gratification  arising  from  the  acceptance  and  prompt 
publication  of  her  essay,  was  marred  by  Mr.  Murray's  sneer 
ing  comments;  but  still  her  heart  was  happier  than  it  had 
been  for  many  weeks,  and  as  she  turned  to  the  Editor's 
Table  and  read  a  few  lines  complimenting  "the  article  of  a 


230  ST.  ELMO. 

new  contributor,"  and  promising  another  from  the  same  pen 
for  the  ensuing  month,  her  face  flushed  joyfully. 

While  she  felt  it  difficult  to  realize  that  her  writings  had 
found  favor  in  Mr.  Manning's  critical  eyes,  she  thanked 
God  that  she  was  considered  worthy  of  communicating  with 
her  race  through  the  medium  of  a  magazine  so  influential 
and  celebrated.  She  thought  it  probable  that  Mr.  Manning 
had  written  her  a  few  lines,  and  wondered  whether  at  that 
moment  a  letter  was  not  hidden  in  St.  Elmo's  pocket. 

Taking  the  magazine,  she  went  into  Mrs.  Murray's  room, 
and  found  her  resting  on  a  lounge.  Her  face  wore  a  trou 
bled  expression,  and  Edna  saw  traces  of  tears  on  the  pillow. 

"Come  in,  child;  I  was  just  thinking  of  you." 

She  put  out  her  hand,  drew  the  girl  to  a  seat  near  the 
lounge,  and  sighed  heavily. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Murray,  I  am  very,  very  happy,  and  I  have 
come  to  make  a  confession  and  ask  your  congratulations." 

She  knelt  down  beside  her,  and,  taking  the  white  fingers 
of  her  benefactress,  pressed  her  forehead  against  them. 

"A  confession,  Edna!   What  have  you  done?" 

Mrs.  Murray  started  up  and  lifted  the  blushing  face. 

"Some  time  ago  you  questioned  me  concerning  some  let 
ters  which  excited  your  suspicion,  and  which  I  promised  to 
explain  at  some  future  day.  I  dare  say  you  will  think  me 
very  presumptuous  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  been  aspiring 
to  authorship ;  that  I  was  corresponding  with  Mr.  Manning 
on  the  subject  of  a  MS.  which  I  had  sent  for  his  examination, 
and  now  I  have  come  to  show  you  what  I  have  been  doing. 
You  heard  Mr.  Murray  read  an  essay  this  morning  from  the 

Magazine,  which  he  ridiculed  very  bitterly,  but  which 

Mr.  Manning  at  least  thought  worthy  of  a  place  in  his  pages. 
Mrs.  Murray,  I  wrote  that  article." 

"Is  it  possible?  Who  assisted  you — who  revised  it,  Mr. 
Hammond?  I  did  not  suppose  that  you,  my  child,  could 
ever  write  so  elegantly,  so  gracefully." 

"No  one  saw  the  MS.  until  Mr.  Manning  gave  it  to  the 
printers.  I  wished  to  surprise  Mr.  Hammond,  and  there 
fore  told  him  nothing  of  my  ambitious  scheme.  I  was  very 
apprehensive  that  I  should  fail,  and  for  that  reason  was  un 
willing  to  acquaint  you  with  the  precise  subject  of  the  cor 
respondence  until  I  was  sure  of  success.  Oh,  Mrs.  Murray! 


ST.  ELMO.  231 

I  have  no  mother,  and  feeling  that  I  owe  everything  to  you 
— that  without  your  generous  aid  and  protection  I  should 
never  have  been  able  to  accomplish  this  one  hope  of  my 
life,  I  come  to  you  to  share  my  triumph,  for  I  know  you 
will  fully  sympathize  with  me.  Here  is  the  magazine  con 
taining  Mr.  Manning's  praise  of  my  work,  and  here  are  the 
letters  which  I  was  once  so  reluctant  to  put  into  your  hands. 
When  I  asked  you  to  trust  me,  you  did  so  nobly  and  freely ; 
and  thanking  you  more  than  my  feeble  words  can  express,  I 
want  to  show  you  that  I  was  not  unworthy  of  your  confi 
dence." 

She  laid  magazine  and  letters  on  Mrs.  Murray's  lap,  and 
in  silence  the  proud,  reserved  woman  wound  her  arms  tightly 
around  the  orphan,  pressing  the  bright  young  face  against 
her  shoulder,  and  resting  her  own  cheek  on  the  girl's  fair 
forehead. 

The  door  was  partly  ajar,  and  at  that  instant  St.  Elmo 
entered. 

He  stopped,  looked  at  the  kneeling  figure  locked  so  closely 
in  his  mother's  arms,  and  over  his  stern  face  broke  a  light 
that  transformed  it  into  such  beauty  as  Lucifer's  might  have 
worn  before  his  sin  and  banishment,  when  God — 

"'Lucifer' — kindly  said  as  'Gabriel,' 
'  Lucifer' — soft  as  '  Michael' ;  while  serene 
He,  standing  in  the  glory  of  the  lamps, 
Answered,  '  My  Father,'  innocent  of  shame 
And  of  the  sense  of  thunder!" 

Yearningly  he  extended  his  arms  toward  the  two,  who, 
absorbed  in  their  low  talk,  were  unconscious  of  his  presence ; 
then  the  hands  fell  heavily  to  his  side,  the  brief  smile  was 
swallowed  up  by  scowling  shadows,  and  he  turned  silently 
away  and  went  to  his  own  gloomy  rooms. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"MRS.  POWELL  and  her  daughter  to  see  Miss  Estelle  and 
Miss  Edna." 

"Why  did  you  not  say  we  were  at  dinner?"  cried  Mrs. 
Murray,  impatiently,  darting  an  angry  glance  at  the  ser 
vant 

"I  did,  ma'am,  but  they  said  they  would  wait." 

As  Estelle  folded  up  her  napkin  and  slipped  it  into  the 
silver  ring,  she  looked  furtively  at  St.  Elmo,  who,  holding 
up  a  bunch  of  purple  grapes,  said  in  an  indifferent  tone  to 
his  mother: 

"The  vineyards  of  Axarquia  show  nothing  more  perfect. 
This  cluster  might  challenge  comparison  with  those  from 
which  Red  Hermitage  is  made,  and  the  seeds  of  which  are 
said  to  have  been  brought  from  Schiraz.  Even  on  the  sunny 
slopes  of  Cyprus  and  Naxos  I  found  no  finer  grapes  than 
these.  A  propos!  I  want  a  basketful  this  afternoon.  Henry, 
tell  old  Simon  to  gather  them  immediately." 

"Pray  what  use  have  you  for  them  ?  I  am  sure  the  cour 
teous  idea  of  sending  them  as  a  present  never  could  have 
forced  an  entrance  into  your  mind,  much  less  have  carried 
the  outworks  of  your  heart!" 

As  his  cousin  spoke  she  came  to  the  back  of  his  chair  and 
leaned  over  his  shoulder. 

"I  shall  go  out  on  the  terrace  and  renew  the  obsolete 
Dionysia,  shouting  'Evoe!  Eleleus!'  I  shall  crown  and  pelt, 
my  marble  Bacchus  yonder  with  the  grapes  till  his  dainty 
sculptured  limbs  are  bathed  in  their  purple  sacrificial  blood. 
What  other  use  could  I  possibly  have  for  them?" 

He  threw  his  head  back  and  added  something  in  a  lower 
tone,  at  which  Estelle  laughed,  and  put  up  her  red,  full  lip. 

Mrs.  Murray  frowned,  and  said  sternly: 

"If  you  intend  to  see  those  persons,  I  advise  you  to  do  so 
promptly." 

[232] 


ST.  ELMO.  233 

Her  niece  moved  toward  the  door,  but  glanced  over  her 
shoulder. 

"I  presume  Gertrude  expects  to  see  Edna,  as  she  asked 
for  her." 

The  orphan  had  been  watching  Mr.  Murray's  face,  but 
could  detect  no  alteration  in  its  expression,  save  a  brief 
gleam  as  of  triumph  when  the  visitors  were  announced. 
Rising,  she  approached  Mrs.  Murray,  whose  clouded  brow 
betokened  more  than  ordinary  displeasure,  and  whispered : 

"Gertrude  is  exceedingly  anxious  to  see  the  house  and 
grounds;  have  I  your  permission  to  show  her  over  the 
place?  She  is  particularly  anxious  to  see  the  deer." 

"Of  course,  if  she  requests  it;  but  their  effrontery  in  com 
ing  here  caps  the  climax  of  all  the  impudence  I  ever  heard 
of.  Have  as  little  to  say  as  possible." 

Edna  went  to  the  parlor,  leaving  mother  and  son  together. 

Mrs.  Powell  had  laid  aside  her  mourning  garments  and 
wore  a  dress  of  blue  muslin  which  heightened  her  beauty, 
and  as  the  orphan  looked  from  her  to  Gertrude  she  found 
it  difficult  to  decide  who  was  the  loveliest.  After  a  few 
desultory  remarks  she  rose,  saying: 

"As  you  have  repeatedly  expressed  a  desire  to  examine 
the  park  and  hothouses,  I  will  show  you  the  way  this  after 
noon." 

"Take  care,  my  love,  that  you  do  not  fatigue  yourself," 
were  Mrs.  Powell's  low,  tenderly  spoken  words  as  her 
daughter  rose  to  leave  the  room. 

Edna  went  first  to  the  greenhouse,  and  though  her  com 
panion  chattered  ceaselessly,  she  took  little  interest  in  her 
exclamations  of  delight,  and  was  conjecturing  the  probable 
cause  of  Mrs.  Murray's  great  indignation. 

For  some  weeks  she  had  been  thrown  frequently  into  the 
society  of  Mr.  Hammond's  guests,  and  while  her  distrust 
of  Mrs.  Powell,  her  aversion  to  her  melting,  musical  voice, 
increased  at  every  interview,  a  genuine  affection  for  Ger 
trude  had  taken  root  in  her  heart. 

They  were  the  same  age,  but  one  was  an  earnest  women, 
the  other  a  fragile,  careless,  gleeful,  enthusiastic  child. 
Although  the  orphan  found  it  impossible  to  make  a  compan 
ion  of  this  beautiful,  warm-hearted  girl,  who  hated  books 
and  turned  pale  at  the  mention  of  study,  still  Edna  liked  to 


234  ST-  ELMO. 

watch  the  lovely,  radiant  face,  with  its  cheeks  tinted  like 
sea-shells,  its  soft,  childish  blue  eyes  sparkling  with  joy- 
ousness;  and  she  began  to  caress  and  to  love  her,  as  she 
would  have  petted  a  canary  or  one  of  the  spotted  fawns 
gamboling  over  the  lawn. 

As  they  stood  hand  in  hand,  admiring  some  goldfish  in  a 
small  aquarium  in  the  centre  of  the  greenhouse,  Gertrude 
exclaimed : 

"The  place  is  as  fascinating  as  its  master!  Do  tell  me 
something  about  him;  I  wonder  very  often  why  you  never 
mention  him.  I  know  I  ought  not  to  say  it ;  but  really,  after 
he  has  talked  to  me  for  a  few  minutes,  I  forget  every  thing 
else,  and  think  only  of  what  he  says  for  days  and  days 
after." 

"You  certainly  do  not  allude  to  Mr.  Murray?"  said  Edna. 

"I  certainly  do.     What  makes  you  look  so  astonished?" 

"I  was  not  aware  that  you  knew  him." 

"Oh !  I  have  known  him  since  the  week  after  our  arrival 
here.  Mamma  and  I  met  him  at  Mrs.  Inge's.  Mr.  Inge  had 
some  gentlemen  to  dinner,  and  they  came  into  the  parlor 
while  we  were  calling.  Mr.  Murray  sat  down  and  talked 
to  me  then  for  some  time,  and  I  have  frequently  met  him 
since ;  for  it  seems  he  loves  to  stroll  about  the  woods  almost 
as  well  as  I  do,  and  sometimes  we  walk  together.  You 
know  he  and  my  uncle  are  not  friendly,  and  I  believe  mamma 
does  not  like  him,  so  he  never  comes  to  the  parsonage ;  and 
never  seems  to  see  me  if  I  am  with  her  or  Uncle  Allan.  But 
is  he  not  very  fascinating?  If  he  were  not  a  little  too  old 
for  me,  I  believe  I  should  really  be  very  much  in  love  with 
him." 

An  expression  of  disgust  passed  swiftly  over  Edna's  pale 
face;  she  dropped  her  companion's  hand,  and  asked  coldly: 

"Does  your  mother  approve  of  your  walks  with  Mr. 
Murray  ?" 

"For  heaven's  sake,  don't  look  so  solemn !  I — she — really 
I  don't  know!  I  never  told  her  a  word  about  it.  Once  I 
mentioned  having  met  him,  and  showed  her  some  flowers 
he  gave  me;  and  she  took  very  little  notice  of  the  matter. 
Several  times  since  he  has  sent  me  bouquets,  and  though  I 
kept  them  out  of  uncle's  sight,  she  saw  them  in  my  room, 
and  must  have  suspected  where  they  came  from.  Of  course 


ST.  ELMO.  275 

he  can  not  come  to  the  parsonage  to  see  me  when  he  does 
not  speak  to  my  uncle  or  to  mamma ;  but  I  do  not  see  any 
harm  in  his  walking  and  talking  with  me,  when  I  happen  to 
meet  him.  Oh !  how  lovely  those  lilies  are,  leaning  over  the 
edge  of  the  aquarium!  Mr.  Murray  said  that  some  day  he 
would  show  me  all  the  beautiful  things  at  Le  Bocage;  but 
he  has  forgotten  his  promise,  I  am  afraid  and  I— 

"Ah!  Miss  Gertrude,  how  could  you  doubt  me?  I  am 
here  to  fulfill  my  promise." 

He  pushed  aside  the  boughs  of  a  guava  which  stood  be 
tween  them,  and,  coming  forward,  took  Gertrude's  hand, 
drew  it  under  his  arm,  and  looked  dowa  eagerly,  admiringly, 
into  her  blushing  face. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Murray !  I  had  no  idea  you  were  anywhere 
near  me.  I  am  sure  I  could " 

"Did  you  imagine  you  could  escape  my  eyes,  which  are 
always  seeking  you?  Permit  me  to  be  your  cicerone  over 
Le  Bocage,  instead  of  Miss  Edna  here,  who  looks  as  if  she 
had  been  scolding  you.  Perhaps  she  will  be  so  good  as  to 
wait  for  us,  and  I  will  bring  you  back  in  a  half-hour  at 
least." 

"Edna,  will  you  wait  here  for  me?"  asked  Gertrude. 

"Why  can  not  Mr.  Murray  bring  you  to  the  house  ?  There 
is  nothing  more  to  see  here." 

"Allow  us  to  judge  for  ourselves,  if  you  please.  There  is 
a  late  Paris  paper,  which  will  amuse  you  till  we  return." 

St.  Elmo  threw  a  newspaper  at  her  feet,  and  led  Ger 
trude  away  through  one  of  the  glass  doors  into  the  park. 

Edna  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  aquarium,  and  the  hun 
gry  little  fish  crowded  close  to  her,  looking  up  wistfully  for 
the  crumbs  she  was  wont  to  scatter  there  daily;  but  now 
their  mute  appeal  was  unheeded. 

Her  colorless  face  and  clasped  hands  grew  cold  as  the 
marble  basin  on  which  they  rested,  and  the  great,  hopeless 
agony  that  seized  her  heart  came  to  her  large  eyes  and 
looked  out  drearily. 

It  was  in  vain  that  she  said  to  herself: 

"St.  Elmo  Murray  is  nothing  to  me ;  why  should  I  care  if 
he  loves  Gertrude?  She  is  so  beautiful  and  confiding  and 
winning.  Of  course,  if  he  knows  her  well  he  must  love  her. 
It  is  no  business  of  mine.  We  are  not  even  friends ;  we  are 


236  ST.  ELMO. 

worse  than  strangers ;  and  it  can  not  concern  me  whom  he 
loves  or  whom  he  hates." 

Her  own  heart  laughed  her  words  to  scorn,  and  answered 
defiantly:  "He  is  my  king!  my  king!  I  have  crowned  and 
sceptred  him,  and  right  royally  he  rules !" 

In  pitiable  humiliation  she  acknowledged  that  she  had 
found  it  impossible  to  tear  her  thoughts  from  him ;  that  his 
dark  face  followed — haunted  her,  sleeping  and  waking. 
While  she  shrank  from  his  presence,  and  dreaded  his  char 
acter,  she  could  not  witness  his  fond  manner  to  Gertrude 
without  a  pang  of  the  keenest  pain  she  had  ever  endured. 

The  suddenness  of  the  discovery  shocked  her  into  a  thor 
ough  understanding  of  her  own  feelings.  The  grinning 
fiend  of  jealousy  had  swept  aside  the  flimsy  veil  which  she 
had  never  before  fully  lifted;  and  looking  sorrowfully  down 
into  the  bared  holy  of  holies,  she  saw  standing  between  the 
hovering  wings  of  golden  cherubim  an  idol  of  clay  demand 
ing  homage,  daring  the  wrath  of  conscience,  the  high  priest. 
She  saw  all  now,  and  saw,  too,  at  the  same  instant,  whither 
her  line  of  duty  led. 

The  atmosphere  was  sultry,  but  she  shivered;  and  if  a 
mirror  could  have  been  held  before  her  eyes,  she  would 
have  started  back  from  the  gray,  stony  face  so  unlike  hers. 

It  seemed  so  strange  that  the  heart  of  the  accomplished 
misanthrope — the  man  of  letters  and  science,  who  had  ran 
sacked  the  world  for  information  and  amusement — should 
surrender  itself  to  the  prattle  of  a  pretty  young  thing,  who 
could  sympathize  in  no  degree  with  his  pursuits,  and  was  as 
utterly  incapable  of  understanding  his  nature  as  his  Tartar 
horse  or  his  pet  bloodhound. 

She  had  often  heard  Mrs.  Murray  say,  "If  there  is  one 
thing  more  uncertain  even  than  the  verdict  of  a  jury — if 
there  is  one  thing  which  is  known  neither  in  heaven,  earth, 
nor  hell,  and  which  angels  and  demons  alike  waste  time  in 
guessing  at — it  is  what  style  of  woman  any  man  will  fancy 
and  select  for  his  wife.  It  is  utterly  impossible  to  predict 
what  matrimonial  caprice  may  or  may  not  seize  even  the 
wisest,  most  experienced,  most  practical,  and  reasonable  of 
men ;  and  I  would  sooner  undertake  to  conjecture  how  high 
the  thermometer  stands  at  this  instant  on  the  crest  of  Mount 


ST.  ELMO.  237 

Copernicus  up  yonder  in  the  moon,  than  attempt  to  guess 
what  freak  will  decide  a  man's  choice  of  a  bride." 

Sternly  Edna  faced  the  future,  and  pictured  Gertrude  as 
Mr.  Murray's  wife;  for  if  he  loved  her  (and  did  not  his 
eyes  declare  it?),  of  course  he  would  sweep  every  objection, 
every  obstacle  to  the  winds,  and  marry  her  speedily.  She 
tried  to  think  of  him — the  cold,  harsh  scoffer — as  the  fond 
husband  of  that  laughing  child;  and  though  the  vision  was 
indescribably  painful,  she  forced  herself  to  dwell  upon  it. 

The  idea  that  he  would  ever  love  any  one  or  anything  had 
never  until  this  hour  occurred  to  her;  and  while  she  could 
neither  tolerate  his  opinions  or  respect  his  character,  she 
found  herself  smitten  with  a  great,  voiceless  anguish  at  the 
thought  of  his  giving  his  sinful  bitter  heart  to  any  woman. 

"Why  did  she  love  him?     Curious  fool  be  still  1 
Is  human  love  the  growth  of  human  will?" 

Pressing  her  hand  to  her  eyes  she  murmured: 

"Gertrude  is  right ;  he  is  fascinating,  but  it  is  the  fascina 
tion  of  a  tempting  demon!  Ah!  if  I  had  never  come  here, 
if  I  had  never  been  cursed  with  the  sight  of  his  face!  But 
I  am  no  weak,  silly  child  like  Gertrude  Powell ;  I  know  what 
my  duty  is,  and  I  am  strong  enough  to  conquer,  and  if  neces 
sary  to  crush  my  foolish  heart.  Oh !  I  know  you,  Mr.  Mur 
ray,  and  I  can  defy  you.  To-day,  shortsighted  as  I  have 
been,  I  look  down  on  you.  You  are  beneath  me,  and  the 
time  will  come  when  I  shall  look  back  to  this  hour  and  won 
der  if  I  were  temporarily  bewitched  or  insane.  Wake  up! 
wake  up !  come  to  your  senses,  Edna  Earl !  Put  an  end  to 
this  sinful  folly;  blush  for  your  unwomanly  weakness!" 

As  Gertrude's  merry  laugh  floated  up  through  the  trees 
the  orphan  lifted  her  head,  and  the  blood  came  back  to  her 
cheeks  while  she  watched  the  two  figures  sauntering  across 
the  smooth  lawn.  Gertrude  leaned  on  Mr.  Murray's  arm, 
and  as  he  talked  to  her  his  head  was  bent  down,  so  that  he 
could  see  the  flushed  face  shaded  by  her  straw  hat. 

She  drew  her  hand  from  his  arm  when  they  reached  the 
greenhouse,  and  looking  much  embarrassed,  said  hurriedly : 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  kept  you  waiting  an  unconscionable 


238  ST.  ELMO. 

time;  but  Mr.  Murray  had  so  many  beautiful  things  to  show 
me  that  I  quite  forgot  we  had  left  you  here  alone." 

"I  dare  say  your  mother  thinks  I  have  run  away  with  you ; 
and  as  I  have  an  engagement,  I  must  either  bid  you  good 
bye  and  leave  you  here  with  Mr.  Murray,  or  go  back  at 
once  with  you  to  the  house." 

The  orphan's  voice  was  firm  and  quiet ;  and  as  she  handed 
the  French  paper  to  St.  Elmo,  she  turned  her  eyes  full  on 
his  face. 

"Have  you  read  it  already?"  he  asked,  giving  her  one  of 
his  steely,  probing  glances. 

"No,  sir,  I  did  not  c.:>en  it,  as  I  take  little  interest  in  con 
tinental  politics.  Gertrude,  will  you  go  or  stay?" 

Mr.  Murray  put  out  his  hand,  took  Gertrude's,  and  said : 

"Good-bye  till  to-morrow.    Do  not  forget  your  promise." 

Turning  away,  he  went  in  the  direction  of  the  stables. 

In  silence  Edna  walked  on  to  the  house,  and  presently  Ger 
trude's  soft  fingers  grasped  hers. 

"Edna,  I  hope  you  are  not  mad  with  me.  Do  you  really 
think  it  is  wrong  for  me  to  talk  to  Mr.  Murray,  and  to  like 
him  so  much?" 

"Gertrude,  you  must  judge  for  yourself  concerning  the 
propriety  of  your  conduct.  I  shall  not  presume  to  advise 
you;  but  the  fact  that  you  are  unwilling  to  acquaint  your 
mother  with  your  course  ought  to  make  you  look  closely  at 
your  own  heart.  When  a  girl  is  afraid  to  trust  her  mother, 
I  should  think  there  were  grounds  for  uneasiness." 

They  had  reached  the  steps,  and  Mrs.  Powell  came  out 
to  meet  them. 

"Where  have  you  two  runaways  been?  I  have  waited  a 
half  hour  for  you.  Estelle,  do  come  and  see  me.  It  is  very 
dreary  at  the  parsonage,  and  your  visits  are  cheering  and 
precious.  Come,  Gertrude." 

When  Gertrude  kissed  her  friend,  she  whispered: 

"Don't  be  mad  with  me,  dearie.  I  will  remember  what 
you  said,  and  talk  to  mamma  this  very  evening." 

Edna  saw  mother  and  daughter  descend  the  long  avenue 
and  then  running  up  to  her  room,  she  tied  on  her  hat  and 
walked  rapidly  across  the  park  in  an  opposite  direction. 

About  a  mile  and  a  half  from  Le  Bocage,  on  a  winding 
and  unfrequented  road  leading  to  a  sawmill,  stood  a  small 


ST.  ELMO.  239 

log-house  containing  only  two  rooms.  The  yard  was  ne 
glected,  full  of  rank  weeds,  and  the  gate  was  falling  from 
its  rusty  hinges. 

Edna  walked  up  the  decaying  steps,  and  without  pausing 
to  knock,  entered  one  of  the  comfortless-looking  rooms. 

On  a  cot  in  one  corner  lay  an  elderly  man  in  the  last 
stage  of  consumption,  and  by  his  side,  busily  engaged  in 
knitting,  sat  a  child  about  ten  years  old,  whose  pretty  white 
face  wore  that  touching  look  of  patient  placidity  peculiar  to 
the  blind.  Huldah  Reed  had  never  seen  the  light,  but  a 
marvellous  change  came  over  her  countenance  when  Edna's 
light  step  and  clear,  sweet  voice  fell  on  her  ear. 

"Huldah,  how  is  your  father  to-day?" 

''Not  as  well  as  he  was  yesterday;  but  he  is  asleep  now, 
and  will  be  better  when  he  wakes." 

"Has  the  doctor  been  here  to-day?" 

"No,  he  has  not  been  here  since  Sunday." 

Edna  stood  for  a  while  watching  the  labored  breathing 
of  the  sleeper,  and,  putting  her  hand  on  Huldah's  head,  she 
whispered : 

"Do  you  want  me  to  read  to  you  this  evening?  It  is  late, 
bvit  I  shall  have  time  for  a  short  chapter." 

"Oh !  please  do,  if  it  is  only  a  few  lines.  It  will  not  wake 
him." 

The  child  rose,  spread  out  her  hands,  and  groped  her 
way  across  the  room  to  a  small  table,  whence  she  took  an 
old  Bible. 

The  two  sat  down  together  by  the  western  window,  and 
Edna  asked : 

"Is  there  any  particular  chapter  you  would  like  to  hear?" 

"Please  read  about  blind  Bartimeus  sitting  by  the  road 
side,  waiting  for  Jesus." 

Edna  turned  to  the  verses  and  read  in  a  subdued  tone  for 
some  me  nents.  In  her  eager  interest  Huldah  slid  down 
on  her  knees,  rested  her  thin  hands  on  her  companion's  lap 
and  raif-ed  her  sweet  face,  with  its  wide,  vacant,  sad,  hazel 
eyes. 

When  Edna  read  the  twenty-fourth  verse  of  the  next 
chapter,  the  small  hands  were  laid  upon  the  page  to  arrest 
her  attention. 

"Edna,  do  you  believe  that?     'What  things  soever  you 


2/j.O 


ST.  ELMO. 


desire,  when  ye  pray  believe  that  ye  receive  them,  and  ye 
shall  have  them!'  Jesus  said  that:  and  if  I  pray  that  my 
eyes  may  be  opened,  do  you  believe  I  shall  see?  They  tell 
me  that — that  pa  will  not  live.  Oh !  do  you  think  if  I  pray 
day  and  night,  and  if  I  believe,  and  oh !  I  do  believe,  I  will 
believe !  do  you  think  Jesus  will  let  me  see  him — my  father — 
before  he  dies?  If  I  could  only  see  his  dear  face  once,  I 
would  be  willing  to  be  blind  afterward.  All  my  life  I  have 
felt  his  face,  and  I  knew  it  by  my  fingers;  but  oh!  I  can't 
feel  it  in  the  grave !  I  have  been  praying  so  hard  ever  since 
the  doctor  said  he  must  die ;  praying  that  Jesus  would  have 
mercy  on  me,  and  let  me  see  him  just  once.  Last  night  I 
dreamed  Christ  came  and  put  his  hands  on  my  eyes,  and 
said  to  me,  too,  'Thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole' ;  and  I 
waked  up  crying,  and  my  own  fingers  were  pulling  my  eyes 
open ;  but  it  was  all  dark,  dark.  Edna,  won't  you  help  me 
pray !  And  do  you  believe  I  shall  see  him  ?" 

Edna  took  the  quivering  face  in  her  soft  palms,  and  ten 
derly  kissed  the  lips  several  times. 

"My  dear  Huldah,  you  know  the  days  of  miracles  are 
over,  and  Jesus  is  not  walking  in  the  world  now  to  cure  the 
suffering  and  the  blind  and  the  dumb." 

"But  he  is  sitting  close  to  the  throne  of  God,  and  he 
could  send  some  angel  down  to  touch  my  eyes,  and  let  me 
see  my  dear,  dear  pa  once — ah!  just  once.  Oh!  he  is  the 
same  Jesus  now  as  when  he  felt  sorry  for  Bartimeus.  And 
why  won't  He  pity  me,  too  ?  I  pray  and  believe,  and  that  is 
what  He  said  I  must  do." 

"I  think  that  the  promise  relates  to  spiritual  things,  and 
means  that  when  we  pray  for  strength  to  resist  temptation 
and  sin,  Jesus  sends  the  Holy  Spirit  to  assist  all  who  ear 
nestly  strive  to  do  their  duty.  But,  dear  Huldah,  one  thing 
is  very  certain,  even  if  you  are  blind  in  this  world,  there 
will  come  a  day  when  God  will  open  your  eyes,  and  you 
shall  see  those  you  love,  face  to  face;  'for  there  shall  be  no 
night  there'  in  that  city  of  rest — no  need  of  sun  or  moon, 
for  'the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof.'  " 

"Huldah— daughter!" 

The  child  glided  swiftly  to  the  cot,  and,  looking  round, 
Edna  doubted  the  evidence  of  her  senses;  for  by  the  side 


ST.  ELMO.  241 

of  the  sufterer  stood  a  figure  so  like  Mr.  Murray  that  her 
heart  began  to  throb  painfully. 

The  corner  of  the  room  was  dim  and  shadowy,  but  a 
strong,  deep  voice  soon  dispelled  all  doubt. 

"I  hope  you  are  better  to-day,  Reed.  Here  are  some 
grapes  which  will  refresh  you,  and  you  can  eat  them  as 
freely  as  your  appetite  prompts." 

Mr.  Murray  placed  a  luscious  cluster  in  the  emaciated 
hands,  and  put  the  basket  down  on  the  floor  near  the  cot. 
As  he  drew  a  chair  from  the  wall  and  seated  himself,  Edna 
crossed  the  room  stealthily,  and,  laying  her  hand  on  Hul- 
dah's  shoulder,  led  her  out  to  the  front  steps. 

"Huldah,  has  Mr.  Murray  ever  been  here  before?" 

"Oh!  yes — often  and  often;  but  he  generally  comes  later 
than  this.  He  brings  all  the  wine  poor  pa  drinks,  and  very 
often  peaches  and  grapes.  Oh!  he  is  so  good  to  us.  I  love 
to  hear  him  come  up  the  steps;  and  many  a  time,  when  pa 
is  asleep,  I  sit  here  at  night,  listening  for  the  gallop  of  Mr. 
Murray's  horse.  Somehow  I  feel  so  safe,  as  if  nothing 
could  go  wrong,  when  he  is  in  the  house." 

"Why  did  you  never  tell  me  this  before?  Why  have  you 
not  spoken  of  him?" 

"Because  he  charged  me  not  to  speak  to  any  one  about 
it — said  he  did  not  choose  to  have  it  known  that  he  ever 
came  here.  There!  pa  is  calling  me.  Won't  you  come  in 
and  speak  to  him?" 

"Not  this  evening.     Good-bye.     I  will  come  again  soon." 

Edna  stooped,  kissed  the  child  hastily,  and  walked  away. 

She  had  only  reached  the  gate,  where  Tamerlane  was  fas 
tened,  when  Mr.  Murray  came  out  of  the  house. 

"Edna!" 

Reluctantly  she  stopped  and  waited  for  him. 

"Are  you  not  afraid  to  walk  home  alone?" 

"No,  sir;  I  am  out  frequently  even  later  than  this." 

"It  is  not  exactly  prudent  for  you  to  go  home  now  alone ; 
for  it  will  be  quite  dark  before  you  can  possibly  reach  the 
park  gate." 

He  passed  his  horse's  reins  over  his  arm,  and  led  him 
along  the  road. 

"I  am  not  going  that  way,  sir.  There  is  a  path  through 
the  woods  that  is  much  shorter  than  the  road  and  I  can 


242  ST.  ELMO. 

get  through  an  opening  in  the  orchard  fence.  Good  even- 
ing." 

She  turned  abruptly  from  the  beaten  road,  but  he  caught 
her  dress  and  detained  her. 

"I  told  you  some  time  ago  that  I  never  permitted  espion 
age  in  my  affairs ;  and  now  with  reference  to  what  occurred 
at  the  greenhouse,  I  advise  you  to  keep  silent.  Do  you 
understand  me?" 

"In  the  first  place,  sir,  I  could  not  condescend  to  play 
spy  on  the  actions  of  any  one ;  and  in  the  second,  you  may 
rest  assured  I  shall  not  trouble  myself  to  comment  upon 
your  affairs,  in  which  I  certainly  have  no  interest.  Your 
estimate  of  me  must  be  contemptible  indeed,  if  you  im 
agine  that  I  can  only  employ  myself  in  watching  your 
career.  Dismiss  your  apprehensions,  and  rest  in  the  assur 
ance  that  I  consider  it  no  business  of  mine  where  you  go 
or  what  you  may  choose  to  do." 

"My  only  desire  is  to  shield  my  pretty  Gertrude's  head 
from  the  wrath  that  may  be  bottled  up  for  her." 

Edna  looked  up  fixedly  into  the  deep,  glittering  eyes  that 
watched  hers,  and  answered  quietly: 

"Mr.  Murray,  if  you  love  her  half  as  well  as  I  do,  you 
will  be  more  careful  in  the  future  not  to  subject  her  to  the 
opening  of  the  vials  of  wrath." 

He  laughed  contemptuously,  and  exclaimed: 

"You  are  doubtless  experienced  in  such  matters,  and 
fully  competent  to  advise  me." 

"No,  sir;  it  does  not  concern  me,  and  I  presume  neither 
to  criticise  nor  to  advise.  Please  be  so  good  as  to  detain 
me  no  longer,  and  believe  me  when  I  repeat  that  I  have  no 
intention  whatever  of  meddling  with  any  of  your  affairs,  or 
reporting  your  actions." 

Putting  his  hands  suddenly  on  her  shoulders,  he  stooped, 
looked  keenly  at  her,  and  she  heard  him  mutter  an  oath. 
When  he  spoke  again  it  was  through  set  teeth : 

"You  will  be  wise  if  you  adhere  to  that  decision.  Tell 
them  at  home  not  to  wait  supper  for  me." 

He  sprang  into  his  saddle  and  rode  toward  the  village; 
and  Edna  hurried  homeward,  asking  herself: 

"What  first  took  Mr.  Murray  to  the  blacksmith's  hovel? 
Why  is  he  so  anxious  that  his  visits  should  remain  undis- 


ST.  ELMO.  243 

covered?  After  all,  is  there  some  latent  nobility  in  his 
character?  Is  he  so  much  better  or  worse  than  I  have 
thought  him?  Perhaps  his  love  for  Gertrude  has  softened 
his  heart,  perhaps  that  love  may  be  his  salvation.  God 
grant  it!  God  grant  it!" 

The  evening  breeze  rose  and  sang  solemnly  through  the 
pine  trees,  but  to  her  it  seemed  only  to  chant  the  melan 
choly  refrain,  "My  pretty  Gertrude,  my  pretty  Gertrude." 

The  chill  light  of  stars  fell  on  the  orphan's  pathway,  and 
over  her  pale  features,  where  dwelt  the  reflection  of  a  lone 
liness — a  silent  desolation,  such  as  she  had  never  realized, 
even  when  her  grandfather  was  snatched  from  her  clinging 
arms.  She  passed  through  the  orchard,  startling  a  covey 
of  partridges  that  nestled  in  the  long  grass,  and  a  rabbit 
that  had  stolen  out  under  cover  of  dusk;  and  when  she 
came  to  the  fountain,  she  paused  and  looked  out  over  the 
dark,  quiet  grounds. 

Hitherto  duty  had  worn  a  smiling,  loving  countenance, 
and  walked  gently  by  her  side  as  she  crossed  the  flowery 
vales  of  girlhood;  now,  the  guide  was  transformed  into  an 
angel  of  wrath,  pointing  with  drawn  sword  to  the  gate  of 
Eden. 

As  the  girl's  light  fingers  locked  themselves  tightly,  her 
beautiful  lips  uttered  mournfully: 

"  What  hast  thou  done,  O  soul  of  mine 

That  thou  tremblest  so? 
Hast  thou  wrought  His  task,  and  kept  the  line 

He  bade  thee  go? 
Ah !  the  cloud  is  dark,  and  day  by  day 

I  am  moving  thither : 
I  must  pass  beneath  it  on  my  way — 

God  pity  me!     Whither?" 

When  Mrs.  Murray  went  to  her  own  room  later  than 
usual  that  night,  she  found  Edna  sitting  by  the  table,  with 
her  Bible  lying  open  on  her  lap,  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
floor. 

"I  thought  you  were  fast  asleep  before  this.  I  sat  up 
waiting  for  St.  Elmo,  as  I  wished  to  speak  to  him  about 
some  engagements  for  to-morrow." 

The  lady  of  the  house  threw  herself  wearily  upon  the 


244 


ST.  ELMO. 


lounge,  and  sighed  as  she  unclasped  her  bracelets  and  took 
off  the  diamond  cross  that  fastened  her  collar. 

"Edna,  ring  for  Hagar." 

"Will  you  not  let  me  take  her  place  to-night?  I  want  to 
talk  to  you  before  I  go  to  sleep." 

"Well,  then,  unlace  my  gaiters  and  take  down  my  hair. 
Child,  what  makes  you  look  so  very  serious?" 

"Because  what  I  am  about  to  say  saddens  me  very  much. 
My  dear  Mrs.  Murray,  I  have  been  in  this  house  five  peace 
ful,  happy,  blessed  years;  I  have  become  warmly  attached 
to  everything  about  the  home  where  I  have  been  so  kindly 
sheltered  during  my  girlhood,  and  the  thought  of  leaving  it 
is  exceedingly  painful  to  me." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Edna?  Have  you  come  to  your 
senses  at  last,  and  consented  to  make  Gordon  happy?" 

"No,  no.  I  am  going  to  New  York  to  try  to  make  my 
bread." 

"You  are  going  to  a  lunatic  asylum!  Stuff!  nonsense! 
What  can  you  do  in  New  York?  It  is  already  overstocked 
with  poor  men  and  women,  who  are  on  the  verge  of  starva 
tion.  Pooh !  pooh !  you  look  like  making  your  bread.  Don't 
be  silly." 

"I  know  that  I  am  competent  now  to  take  a  situation  as 
teacher  in  a  school,  or  family,  and  I  am  determined  to  make 
the  experiment  immediately.  I  want  to  go  to  New  York 
because  I  can  command  advantages  there  which  no  poor 
girl  can  obtain  in  any  Southern  city ;  and  the  magazine  for 
which  I  expect  to  write  is  published  there.  Mr.  Manning 
says  he  will  pay  me  liberally  for  such  articles  as  he  accepts, 
and  if  I  can  only  get  a  situation  which  I  hear  is  now  vacant, 
I  can  easily  support  myself.  Mrs.  Powell  received  a  letter 
yesterday  from  a  wealthy  friend  in  New  York  who  desires 
to  secure  a  governess  for  her  young  children,  one  of  whom 
is  deformed.  She  said  she  was  excessively  particular  as  to 
the  character  of  the  woman  to  whose  care  she  committed 
her  crippled  boy,  and  that  she  had  advertised  for  one  who 
could  teach  him  Greek.  I  shall  ask  Mrs.  Powell  and  Mr. 
Hammond  to  telegraph  to  her  to-morrow  and  request  her 
not  to  engage  any  one  till  a  letter  can  reach  her  from  Mr. 
Hammond  and  myself.  I  believe  he  knows  the  lady,  who 
is  very  distantly  related  to  Mrs.  Powell.  Still,  before  I 


ST.  ELMO.  245 

took  this  step,  I  felt  that  I  owed  it  to  you  to  acquaint  you 
with  my  intention." 

"It  is  a  step  which  I  cannot  sanction.  I  detest  that  Mrs. 
Powell — I  utterly  loathe  the  sound  of  her  name,  and  I 
should  be  altogether  unwilling  to  see  you  domesticated  with 
any  of  her  'friends.'  I  am  surprised  that  Mr.  Hammond 
could  encourage  any  such  foolish  scheme  on  your  part." 

"As  yet  he  is  entirely  ignorant  of  my  plan,  for  I  have 
mentioned  it  to  no  one  except  yourself;  but  I  do  not  think 
he  will  oppose  it.  Dear  Mrs.  Murray,  much  as  I  love  you, 
I  cannot  remain  here  any  longer,  for  I  could  not  continue 
to  owe  my  bread  even  to  your  kind  and  tender  charity.  You 
have  educated  me,  and  only  God  knows  how  inexpressibly 
grateful  I  am  for  all  your  goodness;  but  now,  I  could  no 
longer  preserve  my  self-respect  or  be  happy  as  a  dependent 
on  your  bounty." 

She  had  taken  Mrs.  Murray's  hand,  and  while  tears  gath 
ered  in  her  eyes,  she  kissed  the  fingers  and  pressed  them 
against  her  cheek. 

"If  you  are  too  proud  to  remain  here  as  you  have  done 
for  so  many  years,  how  do  you  suppose  you  can  endure  the 
humiliations  and  affronts  which  will  certainly  be  your  por 
tion  when  you  accept  a  hireling's  position  in  the  family  of 
a  stranger?  Don't  you  know  that  of  all  drudgery  that  re 
quired  of  governesses  is  most  fraught  with  vexation  and 
bitterness  of  spirit?  I  have  never  treated  you  as  an  upper 
servant,  but  loved  you  and  shielded  you  from  slights  and 
insults  as  if  you  were  my  niece  or  my  daughter.  Edna,  you 
could  not  endure  the  lot  you  have  selected ;  your  proud,  sen 
sitive  nature  would  be  galled  to  desperation.  Stay  here  and 
help  me  keep  house;  write  and  study  as  much  as  you  like, 
and  do  as  you  please ;  only  don't  leave  me." 

She  drew  the  girl  to  her  bosom,  and  while  she  kissed  her, 
tears  fell  on  the  pale  face. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Murray!  it  is  hard  to  leave  you!  For  indeed 
I  love  you  more  than  you  will  ever  believe  or  realize;  but 
I  must  go!  I  feel  it  is  my  duty,  and  you  would  not  wish 
me  to  stay  here  and  be  unhappy." 

"Unhappy  here!  Why  so?  Something  is  wrong,  and  I 
must  know  just  what  it  is.  Somebody  has  been  meddling — 
taunting  you.  Edna,  I  ask  a  plain  question,  and  I  want  the 


246  ST.  ELMO. 

whole  truth.  You  and  Estelle  do  not  like  each  other;  is 
her  presence  here  the  cause  of  your  determination  to  quit 
my  house?" 

"No,  Mrs.  Murray;  if  she  were  not  here  I  should  still 
feel  it  my  duty  to  go  out  and  earn  my  living.  You  are  cor 
rect  in  saying  we  do  not  particularly  like  each  other;  there 
is  little  sympathy  between  us,  but  no  bad  feeling  that  I  am 
aware  of,  and  she  is  not  the  cause  of  my  departure." 

Mrs.  Murray  was  silent  a  moment,  scrutinizing  the  face 
on  her  shoulder. 

"Edna,  can  it  be  my  son?  Has  some  harsh  speech  of  St. 
Elmo's  piqued  and  wounded  you  ?" 

"Oh !  no.  His  manner  toward  me  is  quite  as  polite,  nay, 
rather  more  considerate  than  when  I  first  came  here.  Be 
side,  you  know,  we  are  almost  strangers ;  sometimes  weeks 
elapse  without  our  exchanging  a  word." 

"Are  you  sure  you  have  not  had  a  quarrel  with  him?  I 
know  you  dislike  him ;  I  know  how  exceedingly  provoking 
he  frequently  is ;  but,  child,  he  is  unfortunately  constituted ; 
he  is  bitterly  rude  to  everybody,  and  does  not  mean  to 
wound  you  particularly." 

"I  have  no  complaint  to  make  of  Mr.  Murray's  manner 
to  me.  I  do  not  expect  or  desire  that  it  should  be  other  than 
it  is.  Why  do  you  doubt  the  sincerity  of  the  reason  I  gave 
for  quitting  dear  old  Bocage?  I  have  never  expected  to 
five  here  longer  than  was  necessary  to  qualify  myself  for 
the  work  I  have  chosen." 

"I  doubt  it  because  it  is  so  incomprehensible  that  a  young 
girl,  who  might  be  Gordon  Leigh's  happy  wife  and  mis 
tress  of  his  elegant  home,  surrounded  by  every  luxury,  and 
idolized  by  one  of  the  noblest,  handsomest  men  I  ever  knew, 
should  prefer  to  go  among  strangers  and  toil  for  a  scanty 
livelihood.  Now  I  know  something  of  human  nature,  and 
I  know  that  your  course  is  very  singular,  very  unnatural. 
Edna,  my  child!  My  dear,  little  girl!  I  can't  let. you  go. 
I  want  you !  I  can't  spare  you !  I  find  I  love  you  too  well, 
my  sweet  comforter  in  all  my  troubles !  My  only  real  com 
panion  !" 

She  clasped  the  orphan  closer  and  wept. 

"Oh!  you  don't  know  how  precious  your  love  is  to  my 
heart,  dear,  dear  Mrs.  Murray!  In  all  this  wide  world 


ST.  ELMO.  247 

whom  have  I  to  love  me  but  you  and  Mr.  Hammond  ?  Even 
in  the  great  sorrow  of  leaving  you,  it  will  gladden  me  to 
feel  that  I  possess  so  fully  your  confidence  and  affection. 
But  I  must  go  away ;  and  after  a  little  while  you  will  not 
miss  me ;  for  Estelle  will  be  with  you,  and  you  will  not  need 
me.  Oh,  it  is  hard  to  leave  you !  it  is  a  bitter  trial !  But 
I  know  what  my  duty  is ;  and  were  it  even  more  difficult,  I 
would  not  hesitate.  I  hope  you  will  not  think  me  unduly 
obstinate  when  I  tell  you,  that  I  have  fully  determined  to 
apply  for  that  situation  in  New  York." 

Mrs.  Murray  pushed  the  girl  from  her,  and,  with  a  sob, 
buried  her  face  in  her  arms. 

Edna  waited  in  vain  for  her  to  speak,  and  finally  she 
stooped  and  kissed  one  of  the  hands,  and  said  brokenly  as 
she  left  the  room: 

"Good-night — my  dearest — my  best  friend.  If  you  could 
only  look  into  my  heart  and  see  how  it  aches  at  the  thought 
of  separation,  you  would  not  add  the  pain  of  your  displeas 
ure  to  that  which  I  already  suffer." 

When  the  orphan  opened  her  eyes  on  the  following  morn 
ing,  she  found  a  note  pinned  to  her  pillow : 

"Mv  DEAR  EDNA:  I  could  not  sleep  last  night  in  conse 
quence  of  your  unfortunate  resolution,  and  I  write  to  beg 
you,  for  my  sake  if  not  for  your  own,  to  reconsider  the 
matter.  I  will  gladly  pay  you  the  same  salary  that  you 
expect  to  receive  as  governess,  if  you  will  remain  as  my 
companion  and  assist  at  Le  Bocage.  I  cannot  consent 
to  give  you  up ;  I  love  you  too  well,  my  child,  to  see  you 
quit  my  house.  I  shall  soon  be  an  old  woman,  and  then 
what  should  I  do  without  my  little  orphan  girl?  Stay  with 
me  always,  and  you  shall  never  know  what  want  and  toil 
and  hardship  mean.  As  soon  as  you  are  awake,  come  and 
kiss  me  good-morning,  and  I  shall  know  that  you  are  my 
own  dear,  little  Edna. 

"Affectionately  vours, 

"ELLEN  MURRAY." 

Edna  knelt  and  prayed  for  strength  to  do  what  she  felt 
duty  sternly  dictated;  but,  though  her  will  did  not  falter 
her  heart  bled,  as  she  wrote  a  few  lines  thanking  her  bene- 


248  ST.  ELMO. 

factress  for  the  affection  that  had  brightened  and  warmed 
her  whole  lonely  life,  and  assuring  her  that  the  reasons 
which  induced  her  to  leave  Le  Bocage  were  imperative  and 
unanswerable. 

An  hour  later  she  entered  the  breakfast-room,  and  found 
the  members  of  the  family  already  assembled.  While  Mrs. 
Murray  was  cold  and  haughty,  taking  no  notice  of  Edna's 
salutation,  Estelle  talked  gayly  with  Mr.  Allston  concerning 
a  horseback  ride  they  intended  to  take  that  morning;  and 
Mr.  Murray,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  seemed  engrossed  in 
the  columns  of  the  London  Times  which  contained  a  recent 
speech  of  Gladstone's.  Presently  he  threw  down  the  paper, 
looked  at  his  watch  and  ordered  his  horse. 

"St.  Elmo,  where  are  you  going?  Do  allow  yourself  to 
be  prevailed  upon  to  wait  and  ride  with  us." 

Estelle's  tone  was  musical  and  coaxing  as  she  approached 
her  cousin  and  put  one  of  her  fingers  through  the  button 
hole  of  his  coat. 

"Not  for  all  the  kingdoms  that  Satan  pointed  out  from 
the  pinnacle  of  Mount  Quarantina!  I  have  as  insuperable 
an  objection  to  constituting  one  of  a  trio  as  some  super 
stitious  people  have  to  forming  part  of  a  dinner-party  of 
thirteen.  Where  am  I  going?  To  that  'Sea  of  Serenity' 
which  astronomers  tell  us  is  located  in  the  left  eye  of  the 
face  known  in  common  parlance  as  the  man  in  the  moon. 
Where  am  I  going?  To  Western  Ross-shire,  to  pitch  my 
tent  and  smoke  my  cigar  in  peace,  on  the  brink  of  that 
blessed  Loch  Maree,  whereof  Pennant  wrote." 

He  shook  off  Estelle's  touch,  walked  to  the  mantel-piece, 
and,  taking  a  match  from  the  china  case,  drew  it  across  the 
heel  of  his  boot. 

"Where  is  Loch  Maree  ?  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have 
seen  the  name,"  said  Mrs.  Murray,  pushing  aside  her  coffee- 
cup. 

"Oh!  pardon  me,  mother,  if  I  decline  to  undertake  your 
geographical  education.  Ask  that  incipient  Isotta  Nogarole, 
sitting  there  at  your  right  hand.  Doubtless  she  will  find  it 
a  pleasing  task  to  instruct  you  in  Scottish  topography,  while 
I  have  an  engagement  that  forces  me  most  reluctantly  and 
respectfully  to  decline  the  honor  of  enlightening  you.  Con 
found  these  matches!  they  are  all  damp." 


ST.  ELMO. 


249 


Involuntarily  Mrs.  Murray's  eyes  turned  to  Edna,  who 
had  not  even  glanced  at  St.  Elmo  since  her  entrance.  Now 
she  looked  up,  and  though  she  had  not  read  Pennant,  she 
remembered  the  lines  written  on  the  old  Druidic  well  by  an 
American  poet.  Yielding  to  some  inexplicable  impulse,  she 
slowly  and  gently  repeated  two  verses: 

"  'Oh,  restless  heart  and  fevered  brain ! 

Unquiet  and  unstable. 
That  holy  well  of  Loch  Maree 

Is  more  than  idle  fable ! 
The  shadows  of  a  humble  will 

And  contrite  heart  are  o'er  it : 
Go  read  its  legend — "TRUST  IN  GOD" — 

On  Faith's  white  stones  before  it!"' 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

"WHILE  your  decision  is  very  painful  to  me,  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  dissuade  you  from  a  resolution  which  I  know 
has  not  been  lightly  or  hastily  taken.  But,  ah,  my  child! 
what  shall  I  do  without  you  ?" 

Mr.  Hammond's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  he  looked  at 
his  pupil,  and  his  hand  trembled  when  he  stroked  her  bowed 
head. 

"I  dread  the  separation  from  you  and  Mrs.  Murray ;  but 
I  know  I  ought  to  go ;  and  I  feel  that  when  duty  commands 
me  to  follow  a  path,  lonely  and  dreary  though  it  may  seem, 
a  light  will  be  shed  before  my  feet,  and  a  staff  will  be  put 
into  my  hands.  I  have  often  wondered  what  the  Etrurians 
intended  to  personify  in  their  Dii  Involuti,  before  whose 
awful  decrees  all  other  gods  bowed.  Now  I  feel  assured  that 
the  chief  of  the  'Shrouded  Gods'  is  Duty,  veiling  her  feat 
ures  with  a  silver-lined  cloud,  scorning  to  parley,  but  whose 
unbending  figure  signs  our  way — an  unerring  pillar  of  cloud 
by  day,  of  fire  by  night.  Mr.  Hammond,  I  shall  follow  that 
stern  finger  till  the  clods  on  my  coffin  shut  it  from  my 
sight." 

The  August  sun  shining  through  the  lilac  and  myrtle 
boughs  that  rustled  close  to  the  study-window  glinted  over 
the  pure,  pale  face  of  the  orphan,  and  showed  a  calm 
mourn  fulness  in  the  eyes  which  looked  out  at  the  quiet  par 
sonage  garden,  and  far  away  to  the  waving  lines  against 
the  sky,  where — 

"  A  golden  lustre  slept  upon  the  hills." 

Just  beyond  the  low,  ivy-wreathed  stone  wall  that  marked 
the  boundary  of  the  garden  ran  a  little  stream,  overhung 
with  alders  and  willows,  under  whose  tremendous  shadows 
rested  contented  cattle — some  knee-deep  in  water,  some 
browsing  leisurely  on  purple-tufted  clover.  From  the  wide, 
hot  field,  stretching  away  on  the  opposite  side,  came  the 
clear  metallic  ring  of  the  scythes,  as  the  mowers  sharpened 

[250} 


ST.  ELMO.  251 

them;  the  mellow  whistle  of  the  driver  lying  on  top  of  the 
huge  hay  mass,  beneath  which  the  oxen  crawled  toward 
the  lowered  bars;  and  the  sweet  gurgling  laughter  of  two 
romping,  sunburned  children,  who  swung  on  at  the  back  of 
the  wagon. 

Edna  pointed  to  the  peaceful  picture,  and  said :  "If  Rosa 
Bonheur  could  only  put  that  on  canvas  for  me,  I  would 
hang  it  upon  my  walls  in  the  great  city  whither  I  am  going ; 
and  when  my  weary  days  of  work  ended,  I  could  sit  down 
before  it,  and  fold  my  tired  hands  and  look  at  it  through 
the  mist  of  tears  till  its  blessed  calm  stole  into  my  heart,  and 
I  believed  myself  once  more  with  you,  gazing  out  of  the 
study-window.  Ah!  blessed  among  all  gifted  women  is 
Rosa  Bonheur!  accounted  worthy  to  wear  what  other 
women  may  not  aspire  to — the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor!  Yesterday  when  I  read  the  description  of  the 
visit  of  the  Empress  to  the  studio,  I  think  I  was  almost  as 
proud  and  happy  as  that  patient  worker  at  the  easel,  when 
over  her  shoulders  was  hung  the  ribbon  which  France  de 
crees  only  to  the  mighty  souls  who  increase  her  glory,  and 
before  whom  she  bows  in  reverent  gratitude.  I  am  glad 
that  a  woman's  hand  laid  that  badge  of  immortality  on 
womanly  shoulders — a  crowned  head  crowning  the  Queen 
of  Artists.  I  wonder  if,  when  obscure  and  in  disguise,  she 
haunted  the  abattoir  du  Route,  and  worked  on  amid  the 
lowing  and  bleating  of  the  victims — I  wonder  if  faith 
prophesied  of  that  distant  day  of  glorious  recompense,  when 
the  ribbon  of  the  Legion  fluttered  from  Eugenie's  white 
fingers  and  she  was  exalted  above  all  thrones?  Ah,  Mr. 
Hammond !  we  all  wear  our  crosses,  but  they  do  not  belong 
to  the  order  of  the  Legion  of  Honor." 

The  minister  enclosed  in  his  own  the  hand  which  she  had 
laid  on  his  knee,  and  said  gently  but  gravely : 

"My  child,  your  ambition  is  your  besetting  sin.  It  is 
Satan  pointing  to  the  tree  of  knowledge,  tempting  you  to 
eat  and  become  'as  gods.'  Search  your  heart,  and  I  fear 
you  will  find  that  while  you  believe  you  are  dedicating  your 
talent  entirely  to  the  service  of  God,  there  is  a  spring  of 
selfishness  underlying  all.  You  are  too  proud,  too  ambitious 
of  distinction,  too  eager  to  climb  to  some  lofty  niche  in  the 
tempk  of  fame,  where  your  name,  now  unknown,  shall 


252  ST.  ELMO. 

shine  in  the  annals  of  literature  and  serve  as  a  beacon  to 
encourage  others  equally  as  anxious  for  celebrity.  I  was 
not  surprised  to  see  you  in  print ;  for  long,  long  ago,  before 
you  realized  the  extent  of  your  mental  dowry,  I  saw  the 
kindling  of  that  ambitious  spark  whose  flame  generally  con 
sumes  the  women  in  whose  hearts  it  burns.  The  history  of 
literary  females  is  not  calculated  to  allay  the  apprehension 
that  oppresses  me,  as  I  watch  you  just  setting  out  on  a 
career  so  fraught  with  trials  of  which  you  have  never 
dreamed.  As  a  class  they  are  martyrs,  uncrowned  and  un- 
canonized ;  jeered  at  by  the  masses,  sincerely  pitied  by  a  fe\v 
earnest  souls,  and  wept  over  by  the  relatives  who  really  love 
them.  Thousands  of  women  have  toiled  over  books  that 
proved  miilstones  and  drowned  them  in  the  sea  of  letters. 
How  many  of  the  hundreds  of  female  writers  scattered 
through  the  world  ii  this  century,  will  be  remembered  six 
months  after  the  coffin  closes  over  their  weary,  haggard 
faces?  You  may  answer,  'They  made  their  bread.'  Ah, 
child!  it  would  have  been  sweeter  if  earned  at  the  wash- 
tub,  or  in  the  dairy,  or  by  their  needles.  It  is  the  rough 
handling,  the  jars,  the  tension  of  the  heartstrings  that  sap 
the  foundations  of  a  woman's  life  and  consign  her  to  an 
early  grave ;  and  a  Cherokee  rose-hedge  is  not  more  thickly 
set  with  thorns  than  a  literary  career  with  grievous,  vexa 
tious,  tormenting  disappointments.  If  you  succeed  after 
years  of  labor  and  anxiety  and  harassing  fears,  you  will 
become  a  target  for  envy  and  malice,  and,  possibly,  for 
slander.  Your  own  sex  will  be  jealous  of  your  eminence, 
considering  your  superiority  an  insult  to  their  mediocrity; 
and  mine  will  either  ridicule  or  barely  tolerate  you ;  for 
men  detest  female  competitors  in  the  Olympian  game  of 
literature.  If  you  fail,  you  will  be  sneered  down  till  you 
become  embittered,  soured,  misanthropic;  a  curse  to  your 
self,  a  burden  to  the  friends  who  sympathize  with  your 
blasted  hopes.  Edna,  you  have  talent,  you  write  well,  you 
are  conscientious;  but  you  are  not  De  Stael,  or  Hannah 
More,  or  Charlotte  Bronte,  or  Elizabeth  Browning;  and 
I  shudder  when  I  think  of  the  disappointment  that  may 
overtake  all  your  eager  aspirations.  If  I  could  be  always 
near  you,  I  should  indulge  less  apprehension  for  your 
future ;  for  I  believe  that  I  could  help  you  to  bear  patiently 


ST.  ELMO.  253 

whatever  is  in  store  for  you.  But  far  away  among  stran 
gers  you  must  struggle  alone." 

"Mr.  Hammond,  I  do  not  rely  upon  myself;  my  hope  is 
in  God." 

"My  child,  the  days  of  miraculous  inspiration  are  ended." 

"Ah !  do  not  discourage  me.  When  the  Bishop  of  Noyon 
hesitated  to  consecrate  St.  Radegund,  she  said  to  him, 
'Thou  wilt  have  to  render  thy  account,  and  the  Shepherd 
will  require  of  thee  the  souls  of  his  sheep.'  My  dear  sir, 
your  approbation  is  the  consecration  that  I  desire  upon  my 
purpose.  God  will  not  forsake  me ;  He  will  strengthen  and 
guide  me  and  bless  my  writing,  even  as  He  blesses  your 
preaching.  Because  He  gave  you  five  talents  and  to  me 
only  one,  do  you  think  that  in  the  great  day  of  reckoning 
mine  will  not  be  required  of  me?  I  do  not  expect  to  'enter 
into  the  joy  of  my  Lord'  as  you  will  be  worthy  to  do ;  but 
with  the  blessing  of  God,  I  trust  the  doom  of  the  altogether 
unprofitable  servant  will  not  be  pronounced  against  me." 

She  had  bowed  her  head  till  it  rested  on  his  knee,  and 
presently  the  old  man  put  his  hands  upon  the  glossy  hair 
and  murmured  solemnly: 

"And  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding, 
shall  keep  your  heart  and  mind  through  Christ  Jesus." 

A  brief  silence  reigned  in  the  study,  broken  first  by  the 
shout  of  the  haymakers  and  the  rippling  laugh  of  the  chil 
dren  in  the  adjacent  field,  and  then  by  the  calm  voice  of  the 
pastor : 

"I  have  offered  you  a  home  with  me  as  long  as  I  have  a 
roof  that  I  can  call  my  own;  but  you  prefer  to  go  to  New 
York,  and  henceforth  I  shall  never  cease  to  pray  that  your 
resolution  may  prove  fortunate  in  all  respects.  You  no 
longer  require  my  direction  in  your  studies,  but  I  will  sug 
gest  that  it  might  be  expedient  for  you  to  give  more  atten 
tion  to  positive  and  less  to  abstract  science.  Remember 
those  noble  words  of  Sir  David  Brewster,  to  which,  I  be 
lieve,  I  have  already  called  your  attention,  'If  the  God  of 
love  is  most  appropriately  worshipped  in  the  Christian  tem 
ple,  the  God  of  nature  may  be  equally  honored  in  the  temple 
of  science.  Even  from  its  lofty  minarets  the  philosopher 
may  summon  the  faithful  to  prayer,  and  the  priest  and  the 
sage  may  exchange  altars  without  the  compromise  of  faith 


254 


ST.  ELMO. 


or  of  knowledge.'  Infidelity  has  shifted  the  battlefield  from 
metaphysics  to  physics,  from  idealism  and  rationalism  to 
positivism  or  rank  materialism;  and  in  order  to  combat  it 
successfully,  in  order  to  build  up  an  imperishable  system  of 
Christian  teleology,  it  is  necessary  that  you  should  thor 
oughly  acquaint  yourself  with  the  'natural  sciences/  with 
dynamics,  and  all  the  so-called  'inherent  forces  of  nature/ 
or  what  Humboldt  terms  'primordial  necessity/  This 
apotheosis  of  dirt,  by  such  men  as  Moleschott,  Buchner,  and 
Voght,  is  the  real  Antaeus  which,  though  continually  over 
thrown,  springs  from  mother  earth  with  renewed  vigor, 
and  after  a  little  while  some  Hercules  of  science  will  lift 
the  boaster  in  his  inexorable  arms  and  crush  him." 

Here  Mrs.  Powell  entered  the  room,  and  Edna  rose  and 
tied  on  her  hat. 

"Mr.  Hammond,  will  you  go  over  to  see  Huldah  this 
afternoon?  Poor  little  thing!  she  is  in  great  distress  about 
her  father." 

"I  fear  he  cannot  live  many  days.  I  went  to  see  him 
yesterday  morning,  and  would  go  again  with  you  now,  but 
have  promised  to  baptize  two  children  this  evening." 

Edna  was  opening  the  gate  when  Gertrude  called  to  her 
from  a  shaded  corner  of  the  yard,  and  turning,  she  saw  her 
playing  with  a  fawn,  about  whose  neck  she  had  twined  a 
long  spray  of  honeysuckle. 

"Do  come  and  see  the  beautiful  present  Mr.  Murray  sent 
me  several  days  ago.  It  is  as  gentle  and  playful  as  a  kitten, 
and  seems  to  know  me  already." 

Gertrude  patted  the  head  of  her  pretty  pet  and  con 
tinued  : 

"I  have  often  read  about  gazelle's  eyes,  and  I  wonder  if 
these  are  not  quite  as  lovely?  Very  often  when  I  look  at 
them  they  remind  me  of  yours.  There  is  such  a  soft,  sad, 
patient  expression,  as  if  she  knew  perfectly  well  that  some 
day  the  hunters  would  be  sure  to  catch  and  kill  her,  and 
she  was  meekly  biding  her  time  to  be  turned  into  venison 
steak.  I  never  will  eat  another  piece!  The  dear  little 
thing!  Edna,  do  you  know  that  you  have  the  most  beautiful 
eyes  in  the  world,  except  Mr.  Murray's?  His  glitter  like 
great  stars  under  long,  long  black  silk  fringe.  By  the  way, 
how  is  he?  I  have  not  seen  him  for  some  days  and  you 


ST.  ELMO.  255 

can  have  no  idea  how  I  do  want  to  look  into  his  face,  and 
hear  his  voice,  which  is  so  wonderfully  sweet  and  low.  I 
wrote  him  a  note  thanking  him  for  this  little  spotted  dar 
ling;  but  he  has  not  answered  it — has  not  come  near  me, 
and  I  was  afraid  he  might  be  sick." 

Gertrude  stole  one  arm  around  her  companion's  neck  and 
nestled  her  golden  head  against  the  orphan's  shoulder. 

"Mr.  Murray  is  very  well ;  at  least,  appears  so.  I  saw  him 
at  breakfast." 

"Does  he  ever  talk  about  me?" 

"No ;  I  never  heard  him  mention  your  name  but  once,  and 
then  it  occurred  incidentally." 

"Oh,  Edna!  is  it  wrong  for  me  to  think  about  him  so 
constantly?  Don't  press  your  lips  together  in  that  stern, 
hard  way.  Dearie,  put  your  arms  around  me,  and  kiss  me. 
Oh !  if  you  could  know  how  very  much  I  love  him !  How 
happy  I  am  when  he  is  with  me.  Edna,  how  can  I  help  it? 
When  he  touches  my  hand,  and  smiles  down  at  me,  I  forget 
everything  else!  I  feel  as  if  I  would  follow  him  to  the  end 
of  the  earth.  He  is  a  great  deal  older  than  I  am;  but  how 
can  I  remember  that  when  he  is  looking  at  me  with  those 
wonderful  eyes?  The  last  time  I  saw  him,  he  said — 
well,  something  very  sweet,  and  I  was  sure  he  loved  me, 
and  I  leaned  my  head  against  his  shoulder;  but  he  would 
not  let  me  touch  him ;  he  pushed  me  away  with  a  terrific 
frown,  that  wrinkled  and  blackened  his  face.  Oh !  it  seems 
an  age  since  then." 

Edna  kissed  the  lovely  coral  lips,  and  smoothed  the  bright 
curls  that  the  wind  had  blown  about  the  exquisitely  moulded 
cheeks. 

"Gertrude,  when  he  asks  you  to  love  him,  you  will  have 
a  right  to  indulge  your  affection ;  but  until  then  yon  ought 
not  to  allow  him  to  know  your  feelings,  or  permit  yourself 
to  think  so  entirely  of  him." 

"But  do  you  believe  it  is  wrong  for  me  to  love  him  so 
much  ?" 

"That  is  a  question  which  your  own  heart  must  an 
swer." 

Edna  felt  that  her  own  lips  were  growing  cold,  and  she 
disengaged  the  girl's  clasping  arms. 

"Edna,  I  know  you  love  me;  will  you  do  something  for 


256  ST.  ELMO. 

me?  Please  give  him  this  note.  I  am  afraid  that  he  did 
not  receive  the  other,  or  that  he  is  offended  with  me." 

She  drew  a  dainty  three-cornered  envelope  from  her 
pocket. 

"No,  Gertrude ;  I  can  be  a  party  to  no  clandestine  corre 
spondence.  I  have  too  much  respect  for  your  uncle,  to 
assist  in  smuggling  letters  in  and  out  of  his  house.  Beside, 
your  mother  would  not  sanction  the  course  you  are  pur 
suing." 

"Oh !  I  showed  her  the  other  note,  and  she  only  laughed, 
and  patted  my  cheek,  and  said,  'Why,  Mignonne!  he  is  old 
enough  to  be  your  father.'  This  note  is  only  to  find  out 
whether  he  received  the  other.  I  sent  it  by  the  servant  who 
brought  this  fawn — oh  dear  me !  just  see  what  a  hole  the 
pretty  little  wretch  has  nibbled  in  my  new  Swiss  muslin 
dress !  Won't  mamma  scold !  There,  do  go  away,  pet ;  I 
will  feed  you  presently.  Indeed,  Edna,  there  is  no  harm  in 
your  taking  the  note,  for  I  give  you  my  word  mamma  does 
not  care.  Do  you  think  I  would  tell  you  a  story?  Please, 
Edna.  It  will  reach  him  so  much  sooner  if  you  carry  it 
over,  than  if  I  were  to  drop  it  into  the  post-office  where  it 
may  stay  for  a  week ;  and  Uncle  Allan  has  no  extra  ser 
vants  to  run  around  on  errands  for  me." 

"Gertrude,  are  you  not  deceiving  me  ?  Are  you  sure  your 
mother  read  the  other  note  and  sanctions  this  ?" 

"Certainly;  you  may  ask  her  if  you  doubt  me.  There! 
I  must  hurry  in;  mamma  is  calling  me.  Dear  Edna,  if  you 
love  me !  Yes,  mamma,  I  am  coming." 

Edna  could  not  resist  the  pleading  of  the  lovely  face 
pressed  close  to  hers,  and  with  a  sigh  she  took  the  tiny  note 
and  turned  away. 

More  than  a  week  had  elapsed  since  Mr.  Hammond  and 
Mrs.  Powell  had  written,  recommending  her  for  the  situa 
tion  in  Mrs.  Andrews's  family ;  and  with  feverish  impa 
tience  she  awaited  the  result.  During  this  interval  she  had 
not  exchanged  a  word  with  Mr.  Murray — had  spent  much 
of  her  time  in  writing  down  in  her  note-book  such  refer 
ences  from  the  library  as  she  required  in  her  MS.  ;  and  while 
Estelle  seemed  unusually  high-spirited,  Mrs.  Murray 
watched  in  silence  the  orphan's  preparations  for  departure. 

Absorbed  in  very  painful  reflections,  the  girl  walked  on 


ST.  ELMO.  257 

rapidly  till  she  reached  the  cheerless  home  of  the  black 
smith,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,  Mr.  Murray." 

Edna  pushed  open  the  door  and  walked  in. 

"It  is  not  Mr.  Murray  this  time." 

"Oh,  Edna!  I  am  so  glad  you  happened  to  come.  He 
would  not  let  me  tell  you ;  he  said  he  did  not  wish  it  known. 
But  now  you  are  here,  you  will  stay  with  me,  won't  you,  till 
it  is  over  ?" 

Huldah  was  kneeling  at  the  side  of  her  father's  cot,  and 
Edna  was  startled  by  the  look  of  eager,  breathless  anxiety 
printed  on  her  white,  trembling  face. 

"What  does  she  mean,  Mr.  Reed?" 

"Poor  little  lamb,  she  is  so  excited  she  can  hardly  speak, 
and  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  talk  much.  Huldah,  daugh 
ter,  tell  Miss  Edna  all  about  it." 

"Mr.  Murray  heard  all  I  said  to  you  about  praying  to 
have  my  eyes  opened,  and  he  went  to  town  that  same  even 
ing,  and  telegraphed  to  some  doctor  in  Philadelphia,  who 
cures  blindness,  to  come  on  and  see  if  he  could  do  any 
thing  for  my  eyes.  Mr.  Murray  was  here  this  morning, 
and  said  he  had  heard  from  the  doctor,  and  that  he  would 
come  this  afternoon.  He  said  he  could  only  stay  till  the 
cars  left  for  Chattanooga,  as  he  must  go  back  at  once.  You 

know  he hush !   There !  there !   I  hear  the  carriage  now. 

Oh,  Edna !  pray  for  me !    Pa,  pray  for  my  poor  eyes !" 

The  sweet,  childish  face  was  colorless,  and  tears  filled  the 
filmy,  hazel  eyes  as  Huldah  clasped  her  hands.  Her  lips 
moved  rapidly,  though  no  sound  was  audible. 

Edna  stepped  behind  the  door,  and  peeped  through  a 
crack  in  the  planks. 

Mr.  Murray  entered  first  and  beckoned  to  the  stranger, 
who  paused  at  the  threshold,  with  a  case  of  instruments  in 
his  hand. 

"Come  in,  Hugh ;  here  is  your  patient,  very  much  fright 
ened,  too,  I  am  afraid.  Huldah,  come  to  the  light." 

He  drew  her  to  the  window,  lifted  her  to  a  chair,  and  the 
doctor  bent  down,  pushed  back  his  spectacles,  and  cau 
tiously  examined  the  child's  eyes. 

"Don't  tremble  so,  Huldah ;  there  is  nothing  to  be  afraid 
of.  The  doctor  will  not  hurt  you." 


258  ST.  ELMO. 

"Oh!  it  is  not  that  I  fear  to  be  hurt!  Edna,  are  you 
praying  for  me?" 

"Edna  is  not  here,"  answered  Mr.  Murray,  glancing 
round  the  room. 

"Yes,  she  is  here.  I  did  not  tell  her,  but  she  happened  to 
come  a  little  while  ago.  Edna,  won't  you  hold  one  of  my 
hands?  Oh,  Edna!  Edna!" 

Reluctantly  the  orphan  came  forward,  and,  without  lift 
ing  her  eyes,  took  one  of  the  little  outstretched  hands  firmly 
in  both  her  own.  While  Mr.  Murray  silently  appropriated 
the  other,  Huldah  whispered : 

"Please  both  of  you  pray  for  me." 

The  doctor  raised  the  eyelids  several  times,  peered  long 
and  curiously  at  the  eyeballs,  and  opened  his  case  of  instru 
ments. 

"This  is  one  of  those  instances  of  congenital  cataract 
which  might  have  been  relieved  long  ago.  A  slight  opera 
tion  will  remove  the  difficulty.  St.  Elmo,  you  asked  me 
about  the  probability  of  an  instantaneous  restoration,  and  I 
had  begun  to  tell  you  about  that  case  which  Wardrop  men 
tions  of  a  woman,  blind  from  her  birth  till  she  was  forty- 
six  years  of  age.  She  could  not  distinguish  objects  for  sev 
eral  days " 

"Oh,  sir !  will  I  see  ?  Will  I  see  my  father  ?"  Her  fingers 
closed  spasmodically  over  those  that  clasped  them,  and  the 
agonizing  suspense  written  in  her  countenance  was  pitiable 
to  contemplate. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  I  hope  so — I  think  so.  You  know,  Mur 
ray,  the  eye  has  to  be  trained ;  but  Haller  mentions  a  case  of 
a  nobleman  who  saw  distinctly  at  various  distances,  imme 
diately  after  the  cataract  was  removed  from  the  axis  of 
vision.  Now,  my  little  girl,  hold  just  as  still  as  possible.  I. 
shall  not  hurt  you." 

Skilfully  he  cut  through  the  membrane  and  drew  it  down, 
then  held  his  hat  between  her  eyes  and  the  light  streaming 
through  the  window. 

Some  seconds  elapsed  and  suddenly  a  cry  broke  from  the 
child's  lips. 

"Oh !  something  shines !  there  is  a  light,  I  believe !" 

Mr.  Murray  threw  his  handkerchief  over  her  head,  caught 
her  in  his  arms  and  placed  her  on  the  side  of  the  cot. 


ST.  ELMO.  259 

"The  first  face  her  eyes  ever  look  upon  shall  be  that 
which  she  loves  best — her  father's." 

As  he  withdrew  the  handkerchief  Mr.  Reed  feebly  raised 
his  arms  toward  his  child,  and  whispered : 

"My  little  Huldah — my  daughter,  can  you  see  me?" 

She  stooped,  put  her  face  close  to  his,  swept  her  small 
ringers  repeatedly  over  the  emaciated  features,  to  convince 
herself  of  the  identity  of  the  new  sensation  of  sight  with  the 
old  and  reliable  sense  of  touch;  then  she  threw  her  head 
back  with  a  wild  laugh,  a  scream  of  delight. 

"Oh !  I  see !  Thank  God  I  see  my  father's  face !  My  dear 
pa !  my  own  dear  pa !" 

For  some  moments  she  hung  over  the  sufferer,  kissing 
him,  murmuring  brokenly  her  happy,  tender  words,  and 
now  and  then  resorting  to  the  old  sense  of  touch. 

While  Edna  wiped  away  tears  of  joyful  sympathy  which 
she  strove  in  vain  to  restrain,  she  glanced  at  Mr.  Murray, 
and  wondered  how  he  could  stand  there  watching  the  scene 
with  such  bright,  dry  eyes. 

Seeming  suddenly  to  remember  that  there  were  other 
countenances  in  the  world  beside  that  tear-stained  one  on 
the  pillow,  Huldah  slipped  down  from  the  cot,  turned 
toward  the  group,  and  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  fingers. 

"Oh,  Edna!  a'n't  you  glad  for  me?  Where  are  you?  I 
knew  Jesus  would  hear  me.  'What  things  soever  ye  desire, 
when  ye  pray  believe  that  ye  receive  them,  and  ye  shall 
have  them.'  I  did  believe,  and  I  see!  I  see!  I  prayed  that 
God  would  send  down  some  angel  to  touch  my  eyes,  and 
He  sent  Mr.  Murray  and  the  doctor." 

After  a  pause,  during  which  the  oculist  prepared  some 
bandages,  Huldah  added : 

"Which  one  is  Mr.  Murray?  Will  you,  please,  come  to 
me?  My  ears  and  my  fingers  know  you,  but  my  eyes  don't." 

He  stepped  forward  and  putting  out  her  hands  she 
grasped  his,  and  turned  her  untutored  eyes  upon  him.  Be 
fore  he  could  suspect  her  design  she  fell  at  his  feet,  threw 
her  arms  around  his  knees,  and  exclaimed: 

"How  good  you  are!  How  shall  I  ever  thank  you 
enough?  How  good."  She  clung  to  him  and  sobbed  hys 
terically. 

Edna  saw  him  lift  her  from  the  floor  and  put  her  back 


2<5o  ST.  ELMO. 

beside  her  father,  while  the  doctor  bandaged  her  eyes ;  arid 
waiting  to  hear  no  more,  the  orphan  glided  away  and  hur 
ried  along  the  road. 

Ere  she  had  proceeded  far,  she  heard  the  quick  trot  of 
the  horses,  the  roll  of  the  carriage.  Leaning  out  as  they 
overtook  her,  Mr.  Murray  directed  the  driver  to  stop,  and 
swinging  open  the  door,  he  stepped  out  and  approached 
her. 

"The  doctor  dines  at  Le  Bocage ;  will  you  take  a  seat  with 
us,  or  do  you,  as  usual,  prefer  to  walk  alone?" 

"Thank  you,  sir;  I  am  not  going  home  now.  I  shall 
walk  on." 

He  bowed,  and  was  turning  away,  but  she  drew  the  deli 
cately  perfumed  envelope  from  her  pocket. 

"Mr.  Murray,  I  was  requested  by  the  writer  to  hand  you 
this  note,  as  she  feared  its  predecessor  was  lost  by  the  ser 
vant  to  whom  she  entrusted  it." 

He  took  it,  glanced  at  the  small,  cramped,  school-girlish 
handwriting,  smiled,  and  thrust  it  into  his  vest  pocket,  say 
ing  in  a  low,  earnest  tone : 

"This  is,  indeed,  a  joyful  surprise.  You  are  certainly 
more  reliable  than  Henry.  Accept  my  cordial  thanks,  which 
I  have  not  time  to  reiterate.  I  generally  prefer  to  owe  my 
happiness  entirely  to  Gertrude;  but  in  this  instance  I  can 
bear  to  receive  it  through  the  medium  of  your  hands.  As 
you  are  so  prompt  and  trusty,  I  may  trouble  you  to  carry 
my  answer." 

The  carriage  rolled  on,  leaving  a  cloud  of  dust  which  the 
evening  sunshine  converted  into  a  glittering  track  of  glory, 
and  seating  herself  on  a  grassy  bank,  Edna  leaned  her  head 
against  the  body  of  a  tree;  and  all  the  glory  passed  swiftly 
away,  and  she  was  alone  in  the  dust. 

As  the  sun  went  down,  the  pillared  forest  aisles  stretch 
ing  westward,  rilled  first  with  golden  haze,  then  glowed  with 
a  light  redder  than  Phthiotan  wine  poured  from  the  burn 
ing  beaker  of  the  sun;  and  only  the  mournful  cooing  of 
doves  broke  the  solemn  silence  as  the  pine  organ  whispered 
its  low  coranach  for  the  dead  day ;  and  the  cool  shadow  of 
coming  night  crept,  purple-mantled,  velvet-sandaled,  down 
the  forest  glades. 

"Oh!  if  I  had  gone  away  a  week  ago!  before  I  knew 


ST.  ELMO.  26l 

there  was  any  redeeming  charity  in  his  sinful  nature!  If 
I  could  only  despise  him  utterly,  it  would  be  so  much  easier 
to  forget  him.  Ah!  God  pity  me!  God  help  me!  What 
right  have  I  to  think  of  Gertrude's  lover — Gertrude's  hus 
band  !  I  ought  to  be  glad  that  he  is  nobler  than  I  thought, 
but  I  am  not !  Oh !  I  am  not !  I  wish  I  had  never  known 
the  good  that  he  has  done.  Oh,  Edna  Earl !  has  it  come  to 
this?  How  I  despise — how  I  hate  myself!" 

Rising,  she  shook  back  her  thick  hair,  passed  her  hands 
over  her  hot  temples,  and  stood  listening  to  the  distant 
whistle  of  a  partridge — to  the  plaint  of  the  lonely  dove 
nestled  among  the  pine  boughs  high  above  her ;  and  gradu 
ally  a  holy  calm  stole  over  her  face,  fixing  it  as  the  merciful 
touch  of  death  stills  features  that  have  long  writhed  in  mor 
tal  agony.  Into  her  struggling  heart  entered  a  strength 
which  comes  only  when  weary,  wrestling,  honest  souls  turn 
from  human  sympathy,  seek  the  hallowed  cloisters  of  Nature 
and  are  folded  tenderly  in  the  loving  arms  of  Mother  Cy- 
bele,  who  "never  did  betray  the  heart  that  loved  her." 

"  Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky    *     *    *     Tis  her  privilege, 
Through  all  the  years  of  this  our  life,  to  lead 
From  joy  to  joy;  for  she  can  so  inform 
The  mind  that  is  within  us,  so  impress 
With  quietness  and  beauty,  and  so  feed 
With  lofty  thoughts,  that  neither  evil  tongues, 
Rash  judgments,  nor  the  sneers  of  selfish  men, 
Nor  greetings  where  no  kindness  is — nor  all 
The  dreary  intercourse  of  daily  life, 
Shall  e'er  prevail  against  us  or  disturb 
Our  cheerful  faith,  that  all  which,  we  behold 
Is  full  of  blessing." 

To  her  dewy  altars  among  the  mountains  of  Gilead  fled 
Jephthah's  daughter,  in  the  days  when  she  sought  for 
strength  to  fulfill  her  father's  battle-vow ;  and  into  her  pity 
ing  starry  eyes  looked  stricken  Rizpah,  from  those  dreary 
rocks  where  love  held  faithful  vigil,  guarding  the  bleach 
ing  bones  of  her  darling  dead,  sacrificed  for  the  sins  of  Saul. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"MRS.  ANDREWS  writes  that  I  must  go  on  with  as  little 
delay  as  possible,  and  I  shall  start  early  Monday  morning, 
as  I  wish  to  stop  one  day  at  Chattanooga." 

Edna  rose  and  took  her  hat  from  the  study  table,  and  Mr. 
Hammond  asked: 

"Do  you  intend  to  travel  alone?" 

"I  shall  be  compelled  to  do  so,  as  I  know  of  no  one  who 
is  going  on  to  New  York.  Of  course,  I  dislike  very  much 
to  travel  alone,  but  in  this  instance  I  do  not  see  how  I  can 
avoid  it." 

"Do  not  put  on  your  hat — stay  and  spend  the  evening  with 
me." 

"Thank  you,  sir,  I  want  to  go  to  the  church  and  practice 
for  the  last  time  on  the  organ.  After  to-morrow,  I  may 
never  sing  again  in  our  dear  choir.  Perhaps  I  may  come 
back  after  awhile  and  stay  an  hour  or  two  with  you." 

During  the  past  year  she  had  accustomed  herself  to  prac 
tising  every  Saturday  afternoon  the  hymns  selected  by  Mr. 
Hammond  for  the  services  of  the  ensuing  day,  and  for  this 
purpose  had  been  furnished  by  the  sexton  with  a  key,  which 
enabled  her  to  enter  the  church  whenever  inclination 
prompted.  The  church-yard  was  peaceful  and  silent  as  the 
pulseless  dust  in  its  numerous  sepulchres ;  a  beautiful  red- 
bird  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  marble  vase  that  crowned  the  top 
of  one  of  the  monuments,  and  leisurely  drank  the  water 
which  yesterday's  clouds  had  poured  there,  and  a  rabbit 
nibbled  the  leaves  of  a  cluster  of  pinks  growing  near  a 
child's  grave. 

Edna  entered  the  cool  church,  went  up  into  the  gallery 
and  sat  down  before  the  organ.  For  some  time  the  low, 
solemn  tones  whispered  among  the  fluted  columns  that  sup 
ported  the  gallery,  and  gradually  swelled  louder  and  fuller 
and  richer  as  she  sang : 

"  Cast  thy  burden  on  the  Lord." 

[262] 


ST.  ELMO.  263 

Her  sweet,  well-trained  voice  faltered  more  than  once, 
and  tears  fell  thick  and  fast  on  the  keys.  Finally  she  turned 
and  looked  down  at  the  sacred  spot  where  she  had  been 
baptized  by  Mr.  Hammond,  and  where  she  had  so  often 
knelt  to  receive  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 

The  church  was  remarkably  handsome  and  certainly  justi 
fied  the  pride  with  which  the  villagers  exhibited  it  to  all 
strangers.  The  massive  mahogany  pew-doors  were  elab 
orately  carved  and  surmounted  by  small  crosses;  the  tall, 
arched  windows  were  of  superb  stained  glass,  representing 
the  twelve  apostles;  the  floor  and  balustrade  of  the  altar, 
and  the  grand  Gothic  pillared  pulpit,  were  all  of  the  purest 
white  marble;  and  the  capitals  of  the  airy,  elegant  columns 
of  the  same  material,  that  supported  the  organ  gallery,  were 
ornamented  with  rich  grape-leaf  moulding;  while  the  large 
window  behind  and  above  the  pulpit  contained  a  figure  of 
Christ  bearing  his  Cross — a  noble  copy  of  the  great  paint 
ing  of  Solario,  at  Berlin. 

As  the  afternoon  sun  shone  on  the  glass,  a  flood  of  ruby 
light  fell  from  the  garments  of  Jesus  upon  the  glittering 
marble  beneath,  and  the  nimbus  that  radiated  around  the 
crown  of  thorns  caught  a  glory  that  was  dazzling. 

With  a  feeling  of  adoration  that  no  language  could  ade 
quately  express,  Edna  had  watched  and  studied  this  costly 
painted  window  for  five  long  years ;  had  found  a  marvellous 
fascination  in  the  pallid  face  stained  with  purplish  blood- 
drops;  in  the  parted  lips  quivering  with  human  pain  and 
anguish  of  spirit;  in  the  unfathomable,  divine  eyes  that 
pierced  the  veil  and  rested  upon  the  Father's  face.  Not  all 
the  sermons  of  Bossuet,  or  Chalmers,  or  Jeremy  Taylor,  or 
Melville,  had  power  to  stir  the  great  deeps  of  her  soul  like 
or.e  glance  at  that  pale,  thorn-crowned  Christ,  who  looked  in 
"oiceless  woe  and  sublime  resignation  over  the  world  he 
was  dying  to  redeem. 

To-day  she  gazed  up  at  the  picture  of  Emmanuel  till" her 
eyes  grew  dim  with  tears,  and  she  leaned  her  head  against 
the  mahogany  railing  and  murmured  sadly : 

"  'And  he  that  taketh  not  his  cross,  and  followeth  after 
me,  is  not  worthy  of  me!'  Strengthen  me,  O  my  Saviour! 
so  that  I  neither  faint  nor  stagger  under  mine!" 

The  echo  of  her  words  died  away  among  the  arches  of 


264  ST- 

the  roof,  and  all  was  still  in  the  sanctuary.  The  swaying 
of  the  trees  outside  of  the  windows  threw  now  a  golden 
shimmer,  then  a  violet  shadow  over  the  gleaming  altar  pave 
ment;  and  the  sun  sunk  lower,  and  the  nimbus  faded,  and 
the  wan  Christ  looked  ghastly  and  toil-spent. 

"Edna!   My  darling!  my  darling!" 

The  pleading  cry,  the  tremulous,  tender  voice  so  full  of 
pathos,  rang  startlingly  through  the  silent  church,  and  the 
orphan  sprang  up  and  saw  Mr.  Murray  standing  at  her  side, 
with  his  arms  extended  toward  her,  and  a  glow  on  his  face 
and  a  look  in  his  eyes  which  she  had  never  seen  there  before. 

She  drew  back  a  few  steps  and  gazed  wonderingly  at 
him ;  but  he  followed,  threw  his  arm  around  her,  and,  despite 
her  resistance,  strained  her  to  his  heart. 

"Did  you  believe  that  I  would  let  you  go?  Did  you 
dream  that  I  would  see  my  darling  leave  me,  and  go  out 
into  the  world  to  be  buffeted  and  sorely  tried,  to  struggle 
with  poverty — and  to  suffer  alone?  Oh,  silly  child!  I 
would  part  with  my  own  life  sooner  than  give  you  up !  Of 
what  value  would  it  be  without  you,  my  pearl,  my  sole  hope, 
my  only  love,  my  own,  pure  Edna " 

"Such  language  you  have  no  right  to  utter,  and  I  none  to 
hear !  It  is  dishonorable  in  you  and  insulting  to  me.  Ger 
trude's  lover  can  not,  and  shall  not,  address  such  words  to 
me.  Unwind  your  arms  instantly!  Let  me  go!" 

She  struggled  hard  to  free  herself,  but  his  clasp  tightened, 
and  as  he  pressed  her  face  against  his  bosom,  he  threw  his 
head  back  and  laughed: 

"  'Gertrude's  lover !'  Knowing  my  history,  how  could  you 
believe  that  possible?  Am  I,  think  you,  so  meek  and  for 
giving  a  spirit  as  to  turn  and  kiss  the  hand  that  smote  me  ? 
Gertrude's  lover!  Ha!  ha!!  Your  jealousy  blinds  you, 
my " 

"I  know  nothing  of  your  history;  I  have  never  asked;  i 
have  never  been  told  one  word !  But  I  am  not  blind,  I  know 
that  you  love  her,  and  I  know,  too,  that  she  fully  returns 
your  affection.  If  you  do  not  wish  me  to  despise  you  utterly, 
leave  me  at  once." 

He  laughed  again,  and  put  his  lips  close  to  her  ear,  say 
ing  softly,  tenderly — ah!  how  tenderly: 

"Upon  my  honor  as  a  gentleman,  I  solemnly  swear  that  1 


ST.  ELMO.  265 

love  but  one  woman;  that  I  love  her  as  no  other  woman 
ever  was  loved ;  with  a  love  that  passes  all  language ;  a  love 
that  is  the  only  light  and  hope  of  a  wrecked,  cursed,  un 
utterably  miserable  life ;  and  that  idol  which  I  have  set  up  in 
the  lonely  gray  ruins  of  my  heart  is  Edna  Earl!" 

"I  do  not  believe  you !  You  have  no  honor !  With  the 
touch  of  Gertrude's  lips  and  arms  still  on  yours,  you  come 
to  me  and  dare  to  perjure  yourself!  Oh,  Mr.  Murray!  Mr. 
Murray!  I  did  not  believe  you  capable  of  such  despica 
ble  dissimulation!  In  the  catalogue  of  your  sins,  I 
never  counted  deceit.  I  thought  you  too  proud  to  play  the 
hypocrite.  If  you  could  realize  how  I  loathe  and  abhor  you, 
you  would  get  out  of  my  sight !  You  would  not  waste  time 
in  words  that  sink  you  deeper  and  deeper  in  shameful  du 
plicity.  Poor  Gertrude!  How  entirely  you  mistake  your 
lover's  character !  How  your  love  will  change  to  scorn  and 
detestation!" 

In  vain  she  endeavored  to  wrench  away  his  arm,  a  band 
of  steel  would  have  been  as  flexible;  but  St.  Elmo's  voice 
hardened,  and  Edna  felt  his  heart  throb  fiercely  against  her 
cheek  as  he  answered: 

"When  you  are  my  wife  you  will  repent  your  rash  words, 
and  blush  at  the  remembrance  of  having  told  your  husband 
that  he  was  devoid  of  honor.  You  are  piqued  and  jealous, 
just  as  I  intended  you  should  be;  but,  darling,  I  am  not  a 
patient  man,  and  it  frets  me  to  feel  you  struggling  so  des 
perately  in  the  arms  that  henceforth  will  always  enfold  you. 
Be  quiet  and  hear  me,  for  I  have  much  to  tell  you.  Don't 
turn  your  face  away  from  mine,  your  lips  belong  to  me.  I 
never  kissed  Gertrude  in  my  life,  and  so  help  me  God,  I 
never  will!  Hear 1; 

"No!  I  will  hear  nothing!  Your  touch  is  profanation. 
I  would  sooner  go  down  into  my  grave,  out  there  in  the 
churchyard,  under  the  granite  slabs,  than  become  the  wife 
of  a  man  so  unprincipled.  I  am  neither  piqued  nor  jealous, 
for  your  affairs  cannot  affect  my  life ;  I  am  only  astonished 
and  mortified  and  grieved.  I  would  sooner  feel  the  coil  of  a 
serpent  around  my  waist  than  your  arms." 

Instantly  they  fell  away.  He  crossed  them  on  his  chest, 
and  his  voice  sank  to  a  husky  whisper,  as  the  wind  hushes 
itself  just  before  the  storm  breaks. 


266  ST.  ELMO. 

"Edna,  God  is  my  witness  that  I  am  not  deceiving  you; 
that  my  words  come  from  the  great  troubled  depths  of  a 
wretched  heart.  You  said  you  knew  nothing  of  my  history. 
I  find  it  more  difficult  to  believe  you  than  you  to  credit  my 
declarations.  Answer  one  question:  Has  not  your  pastor 
taught  you  to  distrust  me?  Can  it  be  possible  that  no  hint 
of  the  past  has  fallen  from  his  lips?" 

"Not  one  unkind  word,  not  one  syllable  of  your  history 
has  he  uttered.  I  know  no  more  of  your  past  than  if  it 
were  buried  in  mid-ocean." 

Mr.  Murray  placed  her  in  one  of  the  cushioned  chairs  de 
signed  for  the  use  of  the  choir,  and  leaning  back  against 
the  railing  of  the  gallery,  fixed  his  eyes  on  Edna's  face. 

"Then  it  is  not  surprising  that  you  distrust  me,  for  you 
know  not  my  provocation.  Edna,  will  you  be  patient  ?  Will 
you  go  back  with  me  over  the  scorched  and  blackened  track 
of  an  accursed  and  sinful  life?  It  is  a  hideous  waste  I  am 
inviting  you  to  traverse !  Will  you  ?" 

"I  will  hear  you,  Mr.  Murray,  but  nothing  that  you  can 
say  will  justify  your  duplicity  to  Gertrude,  and " 

"D — n  Gertrude!  I  ask  you  to  listen,  and  suspend  your 
judgment  till  you  know  the  circumstances." 

He  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and  in  the  brief  silence 
she  heard  the  ticking  of  his  watch. 

"Edna,  I  roll  away  the  stone  from  the  charnel  house  of 
the  past,  and  call  forth  the  Lazarus  of  my  buried  youth,  my 
hopes,  my  faith  in  God,  my  trust  in  human  nature,  my 
charity,  my  slaughtered  manhood !  My  Lazarus  has  tenanted 
the  grave  for  nearly  twenty  years,  and  comes  forth,  at  my 
bidding,  a  grinning  skeleton.  You  may  or  may  not  know 
that  my  father,  Paul  Murray,  died  when  I  was  an  infant, 
leaving  my  mother  the  sole  guardian  of  my  property  and 
person.  I  grew  up  at  Le  Bocage  under  the  training  of  Mr. 
Hammond,  my  tutor ;  and  my  only  associate,  my  companion 
from  earliest  recollections,  was  his  son  Murray,  who  was 
two  years  my  senior,  and  named  for  my  father.  The  hold 
which  that  boy  took  upon  my  affection  was  wonderful,  in 
explicable  !  He  wound  me  around  his  finger  as  you  wind 
the  silken  threads  with  which  you  embroider.  We  studied, 
read,  played  together.  I  was  never  contented  out  of  his 
sight,  never  satisfied  until  I  saw  him  liberally  supplied  with 


ST.  ELMO.  267 

everything  that  gave  me  pleasure.  I  believe  I  was  very  pre 
cocious,  and  made  extraordinary  strides  in  the  path  of  learn 
ing;  at  all  events,  at  sixteen  I  was  considered  a  remarkable 
boy.  Mr.  Hammond  had  six  children;  and  as  his  salary 
was  rather  meagre  I  insisted  on  paying  his  son's  expenses 
as  well  as  my  own  when  I  went  to  Yale.  I  could  not  bear 
that  my  Damon,  my  Jonathan,  should  be  out  of  my  sight;  I 
must  have  my  idol  always  with  me.  His  father  was  edu 
cating  him  for  the  ministry,  and  he  had  already  commenced 
the  study  of  theology;  but  no!  I  must  have  him  with  me  at 
Yale,  and  so  to  Yale  we  went.  I  had  fancied  myself  a 
Christian,  had  joined  the  church,  was  zealous  and  faithful  in 
all  my  religious  duties.  In  a  fit  of  pious  enthusiasm  I 
planned  this  church — ordered  it  built.  The  cost  was  enor 
mous,  and  my  mother  objected,  but  I  intended  it  as  a  shrine 
for  the  'apple  of  my  eye,'  and  where  he  was  concerned,  what 
mattered  the  expenditure  of  thousands?  Was  not  my  for 
tune  quite  as  much  at  his  disposal  as  at  mine?  I  looked  for 
ward  with  fond  pride  to  the  time  when  I  should  see  my  idol 
— Murray  Hammond — standing  in  yonder  shining  pulpit. 
Ha !  at  this  instant  it  is  filled  with  a  hideous  spectre !  I 
see  him  there !  His  form  and  features  mocking  me,  daring 
me  to  forget !  Handsome  as  Apollo !  treacherous  as 
Apollyon !" 

He  paused,  pointing  to  the  pure  marble  pile  where  a  violet 
flame  seemed  flickering,  and  then  with  a  groan  bowed  his 
head  upon  the  railing.  When  he  spoke  again,  his  face  wore 
an  ashy  hue,  and  his  stern  mouth  was  unsteady. 

''Hallowed  days  of  my  blessed  boyhood !  Ah !  they  rise 
before  me  now,  like  holy,  burning  stars,  breaking  out  in  a 
stormy,  howling  night,  making  the  blackness  blacker  still ! 
My  short  happy  springtime  of  life !  So  full  of  noble  aspira 
tions,  of  glowing  hopes,  of  philanthropic  schemes,  of  all 
charitable  projects!  I  would  do  so  much  good  with  my 
money!  my  heart  was  brimming  with  generous  impulses, 
with  warm  sympathy  and  care  for  my  fellow-creatures. 
Every  needy  sufferer  should  find  relief  at  my  hands  as  long 
as  I  possessed  a  dollar  or  a  crust!  As  I  look  back  now  at 
that  dead  self,  and  remember  all  that  I  was,  all  the  purity  of 
my  life,  the  nobility  of  my  character,  the  tenderness  of  my 
heart — I  do  not  wonder  that  people  who  knew  me  then, 


268  ST.  ELMO. 

predicted  that  I  would  prove  an  honor,  a  blessing  to  my 
race !  Mark  you !  that  was  St.  Elmo  Murray — as  nature 
fashioned  him ;  before  man  spoiled  God's  handiwork.  Back! 
back  to  your  shroud  and  sepulchre,  O  Lazarus  of  my  youth! 
and  when  I  am  called  to  the  final  judgment,  rise  for  me! 
stand  in  my  place,  and  confront  those  who  slaughtered  you! 
*  *  *  My  affection  for  my  chum,  Murray,  increased  as 
I  grew  up  to  manhood,  and  there  was  not  a  dream  of  my 
brain,  a  hope  of  my  heart  which  was  not  confided  to  him. 
I  reverenced,  I  trusted,  I  almost — nay,  I  quite  worshipped 
him !  When  I  was  only  eighteen  I  began  to  love  his  cousin, 
whose  father  \vas  pastor  of  a  church  in  New  Haven,  and 
whose  mother  was  Mr.  Hammond's  sister.  You  have  seen 
her.  She  is  beautiful  even  now,  and  you  can  imagine  how 
lovely  Agnes  Hunt  was  in  her  girlhood.  She  was  the  belle 
and  pet  of  the  students,  and  before  I  had  known  her  a  month 
I  was  her  accepted  lover.  I  loved  her  with  all  the  devotion 
of  my  chivalric,  ardent,  boyish  nature;  and  for  me  she  pro 
fessed  the  most  profound  attachment.  Her  parents  favored 
our  wishes  for  an  early  marriage,  but  my  mother  refused 
to  sanction  such  an  idea  until  I  had  completed  my  educa 
tion  and  visited  the  old  world.  I  was  an  obedient,  affection 
ate  son  then,  and  yielded  respectfully;  but  as  vacation  ap 
proached,  I  prepared  to  come  home,  hoping  to  prevail  on 
mother  to  consent  to  my  being  married  just  before  we  sailed 
for  Europe  the  ensuing  year,  after  I  left  Yale.  Murray 
was  my  confidant  and  adviser.  In  his  sympathizing  ears  I 
poured  all  my  fond  hopes,  and  he  insisted  that  I  ought  to 
take  my  lovely  bride  with  me ;  it  would  be  cruel  to  leave  her 
so  long ;  and,  beside,  he  was  so  impatient  for  the  happy  day 
when  he  should  call  me  his  cousin.  He  declined  coming 
home,  on  the  plea  of  desiring  to  prosecute  his  theological 
studies  with  his  uncle,  Mr.  Hunt.  Well  do  I  recollect  the 
parting  between  us.  I  had  left  Agnes  in  tears — inconsolable 
because  of  my  departure ;  and  I  flew  to  Murray  for  words 
of  consolation.  When  I  bade  him  good-bye  my  eyes  were 
full  of  tears,  and  as  he  passed  his  arm  around  my  shoulders, 
I  whispered,  'Murray,  take  care  of  my  angel  Agnes  for  me! 
watch  over  and  comfort  her  while  I  am  away.'  Ah !  as  I 
stand  here  to-day.  I  hear  again  ringing  over  the  ruins  of  the 
past  twenty  years,  his  loving  musical  tones  answering: 


ST.  ELMO.  269 

"  'My  dear  boy,  trust  her  to  my  care.  St.  Elmo,  for  your 
dear  sake  I  will  steal  time  from  my  books  to  cheer  her  while 
you  are  absent.  But  hurry  back,  for  you  know  I  find  black- 
letter  more  attractive  than  blue-eyes.  God  bless  you,  my 
precious  friend.  Write  to  me  constantly.' 

"Since  then,  I  always  shudder  involuntarily  when  I  hear 
parting  friends  bless  each  other — for  well,  well  do  I  know 
the  stinging  curse  coiled  up  in  those  smooth  liquid  words ! 
I  came  home  and  busied  myself  in  the  erection  of  this 
church;  in  plans  for  Murray's  advancement  in  life,  as  well 
as  my  own.  My  importunity  prevailed  over  my  mother's 
sensible  objections,  and  she  finally  consented  that  I  should 
take  my  bride  to  Europe;  while  I  had  informed  Mr.  Ham 
mond  that  I  wished  Murray  to  accompany  us ;  that  I  would 
gladly  pay  his  travelling  expenses — I  was  so  anxious  for 
him  to  see  the  East,  especially  Palestine.  Full  of  happy 
hopes,  I  hurried  back  earlier  than  I  had  intended,  and 
reached  New  Haven  very  unexpectedly.  The  night  was 
bright  with  moonshine,  my  heart  was  bright  with  hope,  and 
too  eager  to  see  Agnes,  whose  letters  had  breathed  the  most 
tender  solicitude  and  attachment,  I  rushed  up  the  steps,  and 
was  told  that  she  was  walking  in  the  little  flower-garden. 
Down  the  path  I  hurried,  and  stopped  as  I  heard  her  silvery 
laugh  blended  with  Murray's ;  then  my  name  was  pro 
nounced  in  tones  that  almost  petrified  me.  Under  a  large 
apple-tree  in  the  parsonage-garden  they  sat  on  a  wooden 
bench,  and  only  the  tendrils  and  branches  of  an  Isabella 
grape  vine  divided  us.  I  stood  there,  grasping  the  vine — 
looking  through  the  leaves  at  the  two  whom  I  had  so  idol 
ized  ;  and  saw  her  golden  head  flashing  in  the  moonlight  as 
she  rested  it  on  her%  cousin's  breast;  heard  and  saw  their 
kisses  ;  heard what  wrecked,  blasted  me !  I  heard  my 
self  ridiculed — sneered  at — maligned;  heard  that  I  was  to 
be  a  mere  puppet — a  cat's  paw,  that  I  was  a  doting,  silly 
fool — easily  hoodwinked;  that  she  found  it  difficult,  almost 
impossible,  to  endure  my  caresses;  that  she  shuddered  in 
my  arms,  and  flew  for  happiness  to  his!  I  heard  that  from 
the  beginning  I  had  been  duped ;  that  they  had  always  loved 
each  other — always  would ;  but  poverty  stubbornly  barred 
their  marriage — and  she  must  be  sacrificed  to  secure  my 
fortune  for  the  use  of  both!  All  that  was  uttered  I  can  not 


270  ST.  ELMO. 

now  recapitulate;  but  it  is  carefully  embalmed,  and  lies  in 
the  little  Taj  Mahal,  among  other  cherished  souvenirs  of  my 
precious  friendships!  While  I  stood  there,  I  was  trans 
formed;  the  soul  of  St.  Elmo  seemed  to  pass  away — a  fiend 
took  possession  of  me;  love  died,  hope  with  it — and  an  insa 
tiable  thirst  for  vengeance  set  my  blood  on  fire.  During  those 
ten  minutes  my  whole  nature  was  warped,  distorted;  my  life 
blasted — mutilated — deformed.  The  loss  of  Agnes's  love  I 
could  have  borne,  nay — fool  that  I  was ! — I  think  my  quon 
dam  generous  affection  for  Murray  would  have  made  me 
relinquish  her  almost  resignedly,  if  his  happiness  had  de 
manded  the  sacrifice  on  my  part.  If  he  had  come  to  me 
frankly  and  acknowledged  all,  my  insane  idolatry  would 
have  made  me  place  her  hand  in  his,  and  remove  the  barrier 
of  poverty;  and  the  assurance  that  I  had  secured  his  life 
long  happiness  would  have  sufficed  for  mine.  Oh !  the 
height  and  depth  and  marvellous  strength  of  my  love  for 
that  man  passes  comprehension !  But  their  scorn,  their 
sneers  at  my  weak  credulity,  their  bitter  ridicule  of  my  awk 
ward,  overgrown  boyishness,  stung  me  to  desperation.  I 
wondered  if  I  were  insane,  or  dreaming,  or  the  victim  of 
some  horrible  delusion.  My  veins  ran  fire  as  I  listened  to 
the  tingling  of  her  silvery  voice  with  the  rich  melody  of  his, 
and  I  turned  and  left  the  garden,  and  walked  back  toward 
the  town.  The  moon  was  full,  but  I  staggered  and  groped 
my  way,  like  one  blind,  to  the  college  buildings.  I  knew 
where  a  pair  of  pistols  was  kept  by  one  of  the  students,  and 
possessing  myself  of  them,  I  wandered  out  on  the  road  lead 
ing  to  the  parsonage.  I  was  aware  that  Murray  intended 
coming  into  the  town,  and  at  last  I  reeled  into  a  shaded 
spot  near  the  road,  and  waited  for  him?  Oh !  the  mocking 
glory  of  that  cloudless  night!  To  this  day  I  hate  the  cold 
glitter  of  stars,  and  the  golden  sheen  of  midnight  moons! 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  cursed  the  world  and  all  it 
held;  cursed  the  contented  cricket  singing  in  the  grass  at 
my  feet;  cursed  the  blood  in  my  arteries,  that  beat  so  thick 
and  fast  I  could  not  listen  for  the  footsteps  I  was  waiting 
for.  At  last  I  heard  him  whistling  a  favorite  tune,  which 
all  our  lives  we  had  whistled  together,  as  we  hunted  through 
the  woods  around  Le  Bocage ;  and,  as  the  familiar  sound 
of  'The  Braes  of  Balquither'  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  I 


ST.  ELMO.  271 

sprang  up  with  a  cry  that  must  have  rung  on  the  night  air 
like  the  yell  of  some  beast  of  prey.  Of  all  that  passed  I 
only  know  that  I  cursed  and  insulted  and  maddened  him 
till  he  accepted  the  pistol,  which  I  thrust  into  his  hand.  We 
moved  ten  paces  apart — and  a  couple  of  students,  who  hap 
pened  accidentally  to  pass  along  the  road  and  heard  our 
altercation,  stopped  at  our  request,  gave  the  word  of  com 
mand,  and  we  fired  simultaneously.  The  ball  entered  Mur 
ray's  heart,  and  he  fell  dead  without  a  word.  I  was  severely 
wounded  in  the  chest,  and  now  I  wear  the  ball  here  in  my 
side.  Ah!  a  precious  in  memoriam  of  murdered  confi 
dence  !" 

Until  now  Edna  had  listened  breathlessly,  with  her  eyes 
upon  his ;  but  here  a  groan  escaped  her,  and  she  shuddered 
violently,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Mr.  Murray  came  nearer,  stood  close  to  her,  and  hurried 
on. 

"My  last  memory  of  my  old  idol  is  as  he  lay  with  his 
handsome,  treacherous  face  turned  up  to  the  moon ;  and  the 
hair  which  Agnes  had  been  fingering,  dabbled  with  dew 
and  the  blood  that  oozed  down  from  his  side.  When  I  re 
covered  my  consciousness  Murray  Hammond  had  been  three 
weeks  in  his  grave.  As  soon  as  I  was  able  to  travel,  my 
mother  took  me  to  Europe,  and  for  five  years  we  lived  in 
Paris,  Naples,  or  wandered  to  and  fro.  Then  she  came 
home,  and  I  plunged  into  the  heart  of  Asia.  After  two 
years  I  returned  to  Paris,  and  gave  myself  up  to  every 
species  of  dissipation.  I  drank,  gambled,  and  my  midnight 
carousals  would  sicken  your  soul  were  I  to  paint  all  their 
hideousness.  You  have  read  in  the  Scriptures  of  persons 
possessed  of  devils?  A  savage,  mocking,  tearing  devil  held 
me  in  bondage.  I  sold  myself  to  my  Mephistopheles  on  con 
dition  that  my  revenge  might  be  complete.  I  hated  the 
whole  world  with  an  intolerable,  murderous  hate;  and  to 
mock  and  make  my  race  suffer  was  the  only  real  pleasure  I 
found.  The  very  name,  the  bare  mention  of  religion  mad 
dened  me.  A  minister's  daughter,  a  minister's  son,  a  min 
ister  himself,  had  withered  my  young  life,  and  I  blasphem 
ously  derided  all  holy  things.  Oh,  Edna!  my  darling!  it  is 
impossible  to  paint  all  the  awful  wretchedness  of  that  period, 


272  ST.  ELMO. 

when  I  walked  in  the  world  seeking  victims  and  finding 
many.  Verily, 

'  There's  not  a  crime 

But  takes  its  proper  change  out  still  in  crime, 
If  once  rung  on  the  counter  of  this  world, 
Let  sinners  look  to  it.' 

Ah!  upon  how  many  lovely  women  have  I  visited  Agnes's 
sin  of  hypocrisy!  Into  how  many  ears  have  I  poured  ten 
der  words,  until  fair  hands  were  as  good  as  offered  to  me, 
and  I  turned  their  love  to  mockery!  I  hated  and  despised 
all  womanhood;  and  even  in  Paris  I  became  notorious  as  a 
heartless  trifler  with  the  affections  I  won  and  trampled  un 
der  my  feet.  Whenever  a  brilliant  and  beautiful  woman 
crossed  my  path,  I  attached  myself  to  her  train  of  admirers, 
until  I  made  her  acknowledge  my  power  and  give  public 
and  unmistakable  manifestation  of  her  preference  for  me; 
then  I  left  her — a  target  for  the  laughter  of  her  circle.  It 
was  not  vanity;  oh!  no,  no!  That  springs  from  self-love, 
and  I  had  none.  It  was  hate  of  every  thing  human,  espe 
cially  of  every  thing  feminine.  One  of  the  fairest  faces 
that  ever  brightened  the  haunts  of  fashion — a  queenly,  ele 
gant  girl — the  pet  of  her  family  and  of  society,  now  wears 
serge  garments  and  a  black  veil,  and  is  immured  in  an 
Italian  convent,  because  I  entirely  won  her  heart ;  and  when 
she  waited  for  me  to  declare  my  affection  and  ask  her  to 
become  my  wife,  I  quitted  her  side  for  that  of  another  belle, 
and  never  visited  her  again.  On  the  day  when  she  bade 
adieu  to  the  world,  I  was  among  the  spectators ;  and  as  her 
mournful  but  lovely  eyes  sought  mine,  I  laughed,  and 
gloried  in  the  desolation  I  had  wrought.  Sick  of  Europe,  I 
came  home.  .  .  . 

'  And  to  a  part  I  come  where  no  light  shines.' 

My  tempting  fiend  pointed  to  one  whose  suffering  would 
atone  for  much  of  my  misery.  Edna,  I  withhold  nothing; 
there  is  much  I  might  conceal,  but  I  scorn  to  do  so.  During 
one  terribly  fatal  winter,  scarlet-fever  had  deprived  Mr. 
Hammond  of  four  children,  leaving  him  an  only  daughter— 
Annie — the  image  of  her  brother  Murray.  Her  health  was 


ST.  ELMO.  273 

feeble ;  consumption  was  stretching  its  skeleton  hands  to 
ward  her,  and  her  father  watched  her  as  a  gardener  tends 
his  pet,  choice,  delicate  exotic.  She  was  about  sixteen,  very 
pretty,  very  attractive.  After  Murray's  death,  I  never  spoke 
to  Mr.  Hammond,  never  crossed  his  path;  but  I  met  his 
daughter  without  his  knowledge,  and  finally  I  made  her  con 
fess  her  love  for  me.  I  offered  her  my  hand ;  she  accepted  it. 
A  day  was  appointed  for  an  elopement  and  marriage ;  the 
hour  came ;  she  left  the  parsonage,  but  I  did  not  meet  her 
here  on  the  steps  of  this  church  as  I  had  promised,  and  she 
received  a  note  that  announced  my  inability  to  fulfill  the 
engagement.  Two  hours  later  her  father  found  her  in 
sensible  on  the  steps,  and  the  marble  was  dripping  with  a 
hemorrhage  of  blood  from  her  lungs.  The  dark  stain  is 
still  there ;  you  must  have  noticed  it.  I  never  saw  her  again. 
She  kept  her  room  from  that  day,  and  died  three  months 
after.  When  on  her  deathbed  she  sent  for  me,  but  I  re 
fused  to  obey  the  summons.  As  I  stand  here,  I  see  through 
the  window  the  gray,  granite  vault  overgrown  with  ivy,  and 
the  marble  slab  where  sleep  in  untimely  death  Murray  and 
Annie  Hammond,  the  victims  of  my  insatiable  revenge.  Do 
you  wonder  that  I  doubted  you  when  you  said  that  afflicted 
father,  Allan  Hammond,  had  never  uttered  one  unkind  word 
about  me?" 

Mr.  Murray  pointed  to  a  quiet  corner  of  the  church-yard, 
but  Edna  did  not  lift  her  face,  and  he  heard  the  half -smoth 
ered,  shuddering  moan  that  struggled  up  as  she  listened  to 
him. 

He  put  his  hand  on  hers,  but  she  shivered  and  shrank 
away  from  him. 

"Years  passed.  I  grew  more  and  more  savage ;  the  very 
power  of  loving  seemed  to  have  died  out  in  my  nature.  My 
mother  endeavored  to  drag  me  into  society,  but  I  was 
surfeited,  sick  of  the  world — sick  of  my  own  excesses;  and 
gradually  I  became  a  recluse,  a  surly  misanthrope.  How 
often  have  I  laughed  bitterly  over  those  words  of  Mill's: 
'Yet  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  improvement  in 
human  affairs  is  wholly  the  work  of  the  uncontented  char 
acters  !'  My  indescribable,  my  tormenting  discontent,  daily 
belied  his  aphorism.  My  mother  is  a  woman  of  stern  integ 
rity  of  character  and  sincerity  of  purpose ;  but  she  is  worldly 


274  ST-  ELMO. 

and  ambitious,  and  inordinately  proud,  and  for  her  religion 
I  had  lost  all  respect.  Again  I  went  abroad,  solely  to  kill 
time;  was  absent  two  years,  and  came  back.  I  had  ran 
sacked  the  world,  and  was  disgusted,  hopeless,  prematurely 
old.  A  week  after  my  return  I  was  attacked  by  a  very 
malignant  fever,  and  my  life  was  despaired  of,  but  I  ex 
ulted  in  the  thought  that  at  last  I  should  find  oblivion.  I 
refused  all  remedies,  and  set  at  defiance  all  medical  advice, 
hoping  to  hasten  the  end ;  but  death  cheated  me.  I  rose 
from  my  bed  of  sickness,  cursing  the  mockery,  realizing  that 
indeed : 

'  The  good  die  first, 

And  they  whose  hearts  are  dry  as  summer  dust 
Burn  to  the  socket.' 

Some  months  after  my  recovery,  while  I  was  out  on  a 
camp-hunt,  you  were  brought  to  Le  Bocage,  and  the  sight 
of  you  made  me  more  vindictive  than  ever.  I  believed  you 
selfishly  designing,  and  I  could  not  bear  that  you  should  re 
main  under  the  same  roof  with  me.  I  hated  children  as  I 
hated  men  and  women.  But  that  day  when  you  defied  me 
in  the  park,  and  told  me  I  was  sinful  and  cruel,  I  began  to 
notice  you  closely.  I  weighed  your  words,  watched  you 
when  you  little  dreamed  that  I  was  present,  and  often  con 
cealed  myself  in  order  to  listen  to  your  conversation.  I  saw 
in  your  character  traits  that  annoyed  me,  because  they  wer<* 
noble  and  unlike  what  I  had  believed  all  womanhood  or 
girlhood  to  be.  I  was  aware  that  you  dreaded  and  disliked 
me;  I  saw  that  very  clearly  every  time  I  had  occasion  to 
speak  to  you.  How  it  all  came  to  pass  I  can  not  tell — I 
know  not — and  it  has  always  been  a  mystery  even  to  me; 
but,  Edna,  after  the  long  lapse  of  years  of  sin  and  reckless 
dissipation,  my  heart  stirred  and  turned  to  you,  child  though 
you  were,  and  a  strange,  strange,  invincible  love  for  you 
sprang  from  the  bitter  ashes  of  a  dead  affection  for  Agnes 
Hunt.  I  wondered  at  myself;  I  sneered  at  my  idiocy;  I 
cursed  my  mad  folly,  and  tried  to  believe  you  as  unprin 
cipled  as  I  had  found  others ;  but  the  singular  fascination 
strengthened  day  by  day.  Finally  I  determined  to  tempt 
you,  hoping  that  your  duplicity  and  deceit  would  wake  me 
from  the  second  dream  into  which  I  feared  there  was  danger 


ST.  ELMO.  275 

of  my  falling.  Thinking  that  at  your  age  curiosity  was  the 
strongest  emotion,  I  carefully  arranged  the  interior  of  the 
Taj  Mahal,  so  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  you  to  open 
it  without  being  discovered;  and  putting  the  key  in  your 
hands,  I  went  abroad.  I  wanted  to  satisfy  myself  that  you 
were  unworthy,  and  believed  you  would  betray  the  trust. 
For  four  years  I  wandered,  restless,  impatient,  scorning 
myself  more  and  more  because  I  could  not  forget  your 
sweet,  pure,  haunting  face;  because,  despite  my  jeers,  I 
knew  that  I  loved  you.  At  last  I  wrote  to  my  mother  from 
Egypt  that  I  should  go  to  Central  Persia,  and  so  I  intended. 
But  one  night  as  I  sat  alone,  smoking,  amid  the  ruins  of  the 
propylon  at  Philse,  a  vision  of  Le  Bocage  rose  before  me, 
and  your  dear  face  looked  at  me  from  the  lotus-crowned 
columns  of  the  ancient  temple.  I  forgot  the  hate  I  bore  all 
mankind;  I  forgot  every  thing  but  you;  your  pure,  calm, 
magnificent  eyes ;  and  the  longing  to  see  you,  my  darling — 
the  yearning  to  look  into  your  eyes  once  more,  took  posses 
sion  of  me.  I  sat  there  till  the  great,  golden,  dewless  dawn 
of  the  desert  fell  upon  Egypt,  and  then  came  a  struggle  long 
and  desperate.  I  laughed  and  swore  at  my  folly;  but  far 
down  in  the  abysses  of  my  distorted  nature  hope  had  kin 
dled  a  little  feeble,  flickering  ray.  I  tried  to  smother  it,  but 
its  flame  clung  to  some  crevice  in  my  heart,  and  would  not 
be  crushed.  While  I  debated,  a  pigeon  that  dwelt  some 
where  in  the  crumbling  temple  fluttered  down  at  my  feet, 
cooed  softly,  looked  in  my  face,  then  perched  on  a  mutilated 
red  granite  sphinx  immediately  in  front  of  me,  and  after 
a  moment  rose,  circled  above  me  in  the  pure,  rainless  air 
and  flew  westward.  I  accepted  it  as  an  omen,  and  started  to 
America  instead  of  to  Persia.  On  the  night  of  the  tenth  of 
December,  four  years  after  I  bade  you  good-bye  at  the  park 
gate,  I  was  again  at  Le  Bocage.  Silently  and  undiscovered 
I  stole  into  my  own  house,  and  secreted  myself  behind  the 
curtains  in  the  library.  I  had  been  there  one  hour  when 
you  and  Gordon  Leigh  came  in  to  examine  the  Tnrgum. 
Oh,  Edna!  how  little  you  dreamed  of  the  eager,  hungry  eyes 
that  watched  you !  During  that  hour  that  you  two  sat 
there  bending  over  the  same  book,  I  became  thoroughly  con 
vinced  that  while  I  loved  you  as  I  never  expected  to  love  any 
one,  Gordon  also  loved  you,  and  intended  if  possible  to 


276  ST.  ELMO. 

make  you  his  wife.  I  contrasted  my  worn,  haggard  face 
and  grayish  locks  with  his,  so  full  of  manly  hope  and  youth 
ful  beauty,  and  I  could  not  doubt  that  any  girl  would  pre 
fer  him  to  me.  Edna,  my  retribution  began  then.  I  felt 
that  my  devil  was  mocking  me,  as  I  had  long  mocked  others, 
and  made  me  love  you  when  it  was  impossible  to  win  you. 
Then  and  there  I  was  tempted  to  spring  upon  and  throttle 
you  both  before  he  triumphantly  called  you  his.  At  last 
Leigh  left,  and  I  escaped  to  my  own  rooms.  I  was  pacing 
the  floor  when  I  heard  you  cross  the  rotunda  and  saw  the 
glimmer  of  the  light  you  carried.  Hoping  to  see  you  open 
the  little  Taj,  I  crawled  behind  the  sarcophagus  that  holds 
my  two  mummies,  crouched  close  to  the  floor,  and  peeped  at 
you  across  the  gilded  byssus  that  covered  them.  My  eyes, 
I  have  often  been  told,  possess  magnetic  or  mesmeric  power. 
At  all  events,  you  felt  my  eager  gaze,  you  were  restless, 
and  searched  the  room  to  discover  whence  that  feeling  of 
a  human  presence  came.  Darling,  were  you  superstitious, 
that  you  avoided  looking  into  the  dark  corner  where  the 
mummies  lay?  Presently  you  stopped  in  front  of  the  little 
tomb,  and  swept  away  the  spider-web,  and  took  the  key 
from  your  pocket,  and  as  you  put  it  into  the  lock  I  almost 
shouted  aloud  in  my  savage  triumph!  I  absolutely  panted 
to  find  Leigh's  future  wife  as  unworthy  of  confidence  as  I 
believed  the  remainder  of  her  sex.  But  you  did  not  open  it. 
You  merely  drove  away  the  spider  and  rubbed  the  marble 
clean  with  your  handkerchief,  and  held  the  key  between 
your  fingers.  Then  my  heart  seemed  to  stand  still,  as  I 
watched  the  light  streaming  over  your  beautiful,  holy  face 
and  warm,  crimson  dress;  and  when  you  put  the  key  in 
your  pocket  and  turned  away,  my  groan  almost  betrayed 
me.  I  had  taken  out  my  watch  to  see  the  hour,  and  in  my 
suspense  I  clutched  it  so  tightly  that  the  gold  case  and  the 
crystal  within  all  crushed  in  my  hand.  You  heard  the  ting 
ling  sound  and  wondered  whence  it  came ;  and  when  you 
had  locked  the  door  and  gone,  I  raised  one  of  the  windows 
and  swung  myself  down  to  the  terrace.  Do  you  remember 
that  night?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Murray." 

Her  voice  was  tremulous  and  almost  inaudible. 

"I  had  business  in  Tennessee,  no  matter  now,  what,  or 


ST.  ELMO.  277 

where,  and  I  went  on  that  night.  After  a  week  I  returned, 
that  afternoon  when  I  found  you  reading  in  my  sitting- 
room.  Still  I  was  sceptical,  and  not  until  I  opened  the 
tomb,  was  I  convinced  that  you  had  not  betrayed  the  trust 
which  you  supposed  I  placed  in  you.  Then,  as  you  stood 
beside  me  in  all  your  noble  purity  and  touching  girlish 
beauty, — as  you  looked  up  half  reproachfully,  half  defiantly 
at  me — it  cost  me  a  terrible  effort  to  master  myself — to  ab 
stain  from  clasping  you  to  my  heart,  and  telling  you  all  that 
you  were  to  me.  Oh !  how  I  longed  to  take  you  in  my  arms 
and  feed  my  poor  famished  heart  with  one  touch  of  your 
lips!  I  dared  not  look  at  you,  lest  I  should  lose  my  selt- 
control.  The  belief  that  Gordon  was  a  successful  rival 
sealed  my  lips  on  that  occasion ;  and  ah !  the  dreary  wretch 
edness  of  the  days  of  suspense  that  followed.  I  was  a 
starving  beggar  who  stood  before  what  I  coveted  above 
everything  else  on  earth,  and  saw  it  labelled  with  another 
man's  name  and  beyond  my  reach.  The  daily  sight  of  that 
emerald  ring  on  your  finger  maddened  me;  and  you  can 
form  no  adequate  idea  of  the  bitterness  of  feeling  with 
which  I  noted  my  mother's  earnest  efforts  and  manoeuvres 
to  secure  for  Gordon  Leigh — to  sell  to  him — the  little  hand 
which  her  own  son  would  have  given  worlds  to  claim  in  the 
sight  of  God  and  man!  Continually  I  watched  you  when 
you  least  expected  me;  I  strewed  infidel  books  where  I 
knew  you  must  see  them;  I  tempted  you  more  than  you 
dreamed  of;  I  teased  and  tormented  and  wounded  you 
whenever  an  opportunity  offered ;  for  I  hoped  to  find  some 
flaw  in  your  character,  some  defect  in  your  temper,  some 
inconsistency  between  your  professions  and  your  practice. 
I  knew  Leigh  was  not  your  equal,  and  I  said  bitterly,  'She 
is  poor  and  unknown,  and  will  surely  marry  him  for  his 
money,  for  his  position — as  Agnes  would  have  married  me.' 
But  you  did  not !  and  when  I  knew  that  you  had  positively 
refused  his  fortune,  I  felt  that  a  great  dazzling  light  had 
broken  suddenly  upon  my  darkened  life;  and,  for  the  first 
time  since  I  parted  with  Murray  Hairunond,  tears  of  joy 
filled  my  eyes.  I  ceased  to  struggle  against  my  love — I  gave 
myself  up  to  it,  and  only  asked,  How  can  I  overcome  her 
aversion  to  me  ?  You  were  the  only  tie  that  linked  me  with 
my  race,  and  for  your  sake  I  almost  felt  as  if  I  could  forget 


278  ST.  ELMO. 

my  hate.  But  you  shrank  more  and  more  from  me,  and  my 
punishment  overtook  me  when  I  saw  how  you  hated  Clinton 
Allston's  blood-smeared  hands,  and  with  what  unfeigned 
horror  you  regarded  his  career.  When  you  declared  so 
vehemently  that  his  fingers  should  never  touch  yours — oh ! 
it  was  the  fearful  apprehension  of  losing  you  that  made  me 
catch  your  dear  hands  and  press  them  to  my  aching  heart. 
I  was  stretched  upon  a  rack  that  taught  me  the  full  import 
of  Isaac  Taylor's  grim  words,  'Remorse  is  man's  dread 
prerogative!'  Believing  that  you  knew  all  my  history  and 
that  your  aversion  was  based  upon  it,  I  was  too  proud  to 
show  you  my  affection.  Douglass  Manning  was  as  much 
my  friend  as  I  permitted  any  man  to  be;  we  had  travelled 
together  through  Arabia,  and  with  his  handwriting  I  was 
familiar.  Suspecting  your  literary  schemes,  and  dreading  a 
rival  in  your  ambition,  I  wrote  to  him  on  the  subject,  dis 
covered  all  I  wished  to  ascertain,  and  requested  him,  for 
my  sake,  to  reconsider  and  examine  your  MS.  He  did  so  to 
oblige  me,  and  I  insisted  that  he  should  treat  your  letters 
and  your  MS.  with  such  severity  as  to  utterly  crush  your 
literary  aspirations.  Oh,  child!  do  you  see  how  entirely 
you  fill  my  mind  and  heart?  How  I  scrutinize  your  words 
and  actions?  Oh,  my  darling " 

He  paused,  and  leaned  over  her,  putting  his  hand  on  her 
head,  but  she  shook  off  his  touch  and  exclaimed : 

"But  Gertrude !   Gertrude !" 

"Be  patient,  and  you  shall  know  all;  for  as  God  reigns 
above  us,  there  is  no  recess  of  my  heart  into  which  you  shall 
not  look.  It  is,  perhaps,  needless  to  tell  you  that  Estelle 
came  here  to  marry  me  for  my  fortune.  It  is  not  agreeable 
to  say  such  things  of  one's  own  cousin,  but  to-day  I  deal 
only  in  truths,  and  facts  sustain  me.  She  professes  to  love 
me !  has  absolutely  avowed  it  more  than  once  in  days  gone 
by.  Whether  she  really  loves  anything  but  wealth  and  lux 
ury,  I  have  never  troubled  myself  to  find  out;  but  my 
mother  fancies  that  if  Estelle  were  my  wife,  I  might  be  less 
cynical.  Once  or  twice  I  tried  to  be  affectionate  toward  her, 
solely  to  see  what  effect  it  would  have  upon  you ;  but  I  dis 
covered  that  you  could  not  easily  be  deceived  in  that  direc 
tion — the  mask  was  too  transparent,  and  beside,  the  game 
disgusted  me.  I  have  no  respect  for  Estelle,  but  I  have  a 


ST.  ELMO.  279 

shadowy  traditional  reverence  for  the  blood  in  her  veins 
which  forbids  my  flirting  with  her  as  she  deserves.  The 
very  devil  himself  brought  Agnes  here.  She  had  married 
a  rich  old  banker  only  a  few  months  after  Murray's  death, 
and  lived  in  ease  and  splendor  until  a  short  time  since,  when 
her  husband  failed  and  died,  leaving  her  without  a  cent. 
She  knew  how  utterly  she  had  blasted  my  life,  and  im 
agined  that  I  had  never  married  because  I  still  loved  her! 
With  unparalleled  effrontery  she  came  here,  and  trusting 
to  her  wonderfully  preserved  beauty,  threw  herself  and  her 
daughter  in  my  way.  When  I  heard  she  was  at  the  par 
sonage,  all  the  old  burning  hate  leaped  up  strong  as  ever. 
I  fancied  that  she  was  the  real  cause  of  your  dislike  to  me, 
and  that  night,  when  the  game  of  billiards  ended,  I  went  to 
the  parsonage  for  the  first  time  since  Murray's  death.  Oh ! 
the  ghostly  thronging  memories  that  met  me  at  the  gate, 
trooped  after  me  up  the  walk,  and  hovered  like  vultures  as 
I  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  where  my  idol  and  I  had 
chatted  and  romped  and  shouted  and  whistled  in  the  far 
past,  in  the  sinless  bygone!  Unobserved  I  stood  there,  and 
looked  once  more,  after  the  lapse  of  twenty  years,  on  the 
face  that  had  caused  my  crime  and  ruin.  I  listened  to  her 
clear  laugh,  silvery  as  when  I  heard  it  chiming  with  Mur 
ray's  under  the  apple-tree  on  the  night  that  branded  me  and 
drove  me  forth  to  wander  like  Cain ;  and  I  resolved,  if  she 
really  loved  her  daughter,  to  make  her  suffer  for  all  that  she 
haa  inflicted  on  me.  The  first  time  I  met  Gertrude  I  could 
have  sworn  my  boyhood's  love  was  restored  to  me ;  she  is 
so  entirely  the  image  of  what  Agnes  was.  To  possess  them 
selves  of  my  home  and  property  is  all  that  brought  them 
here;  and  whether  as  my  wife  or  as  my  mother-in-law  I 
think  Agnes  cares  little.  The  first  she  sees  is  impracticable, 
and  now  to  make  me  wed  Gertrude  is  her  aim.  Like  mother, 
like  daughter!" 

"Oh !  no,  no !  visit  not  her  mother's  sins  on  her  innocent 
head!  Gertrude  is  true  and  affectionate,  and  she  loves  you 
dearly." 

Edna  spoke  with  a  great  effort,  and  the  strange  tones  of 
her  own  voice  frightened  her. 

"Loves  me?  Ha!  ha!  just  about  as  tenderly  as  her 
mother  did  before  her!  That  they  do  both  'dearly  love' — 


280  ST.  ELMO. 

my  purse,  I  grant  you.  Hear  me  out.  Agnes  threw  the  girl 
constantly  and  adroitly  in  my  way;  the  demon  here  in 
my  heart  prompted  revenge,  and,  above  all,  I  resolved 
to  find  out  whether  you  were  indeed  as  utterly  indifferent 
to  me  as  you  seemed.  I  know  that  jealousy  will  make  a 
woman  betray  her  affection  sooner  than  any  other  cause, 
and  I  deliberately  set  myself  to  work  to  make  you  believe 
that  I  loved  that  pretty  cheat  over  yonder  at  the  parsonage 
— that  frolicsome  wax-doll,  who  would  rather  play  with  a 
kitten  than  talk  to  Cicero;  who  intercepts  rie  almost  daily, 
to  favor  me  with  manifestations  of  devotion,  and  shows 
me  continually  that  I  have  only  to  put  out  my  hand  and 
take  her  to  rule  over  my  house,  and  trample  my  heart  under 
her  pretty  feet!  WLen  you  gave  me  that  note  of  hers  a 
week  ago,  and  looked  so  calmly,  so  coolly  in  my  face,  I  felt 
as  if  all  hope  were  dying  in  my  heart;  for  I  could  not  be 
lieve  that,  if  you  had  one  atom  of  affection  for  me,  you 
could  be  so  generous,  so  unselfish  toward  one  whom  you 
considered  your  rival.  That  night  I  did  not  close  my  eyes, 
and  had  almost  decided  to  revisit  South  America;  but  next 
morning  my  mother  told  me  you  were  going  to  New  York — 
that  all  entreaties  had  failed  to  shake  your  resolution.  Then 
once  more  a  hope  cheered  me,  and  I  believed  that  I  under 
stood  why  you  had  determined  to  leave  those  whom  I  know 
you  love  tenderly — to  quit  the  home  my  mother  offered  you 
and  struggle  among  strangers.  Yesterday  they  told  me  you 
would  leave  on  Monday,  and  I  went  out  to  seek  you;  but 
you  were  with  Mr.  Hammond,  as  usual,  and  instead  of  you 
I  met — that  curse  of  my  life — Agnes!  Face  to  face,  at  last, 
with  my  red-lipped  Lamia!  Oh!  it  was  a  scene  that  made 
jubilee  down  in  Pandemonium!  She  plead  for  her  child's 
happiness — ha,  ha,  ha! — implored  me  most  pathetically  to 
love  her  Gertrude  as  well  as  Gertrude  loved  me,  and  that  my 
happiness  would  make  me  forget  the  unfortunate  past!  She 
would  willingly  give  me  her  daughter,  for  did  she  not  know 
how  deep,  how  lasting,  how  deathless  was  my  affection? 
I  had  Gertrude's  whole  heart,  and  I  was  too  generous  to 
trifle  with  her  tender  love!  Edna,  darling!  I  will  not  tell 
you  all  she  said — you  would  blush  for  your  sisterhood.  But 
my  vengeance  was  complete  when  I  declined  the  honor  she 
was  so  eager  to  force  upon  me;  when  I  overwhelmed  her 


ST.  ELMO.  281 

with  my  scorn,  and  told  her  that  there  was  only  one  woman 
whom  I  respected  or  trusted ;  only  one  woman  upon  the 
broad  earth  whom  I  loved ;  only  one  woman  who  could  ever 
be  my  wife,  and  her  name  was — Edna  Earl!" 

His  voice  died  away,  and  all  was  still  as  the  dead  in  their 
grassy  graves. 

The  orphan's  face  was  concealed,  and  after  a  moment  St. 
Elmo  Murray  opened  his  arms,  and  said  in  that  low  win 
ning  tone  which  so  many  women  had  found  it  impossible 
to  resist:  "Come  to  me  now,  my  pure,  noble  Edna.  You 
whom  I  love,  as  only  such  a  man  as  I  have  shown  myself  to 
be  can  love." 

"No,  Mr.  Murray ;  Gertrude  stands  between  us." 

"Gertrude !  Do  not  make  me  swear  here,  in  your  presence 
— do  not  madden  me  by  repeating  her  name !  I  tell  you  she 
is  a  silly  child,  who  cares  no  more  for  me  than  her  mother 
did  before  her.  Nothing  shall  stand  between  us.  I  love  you ; 
the  God  above  us  is  my  witness  that  I  love  you  as  I  never 
loved  any  human  being,  and  I  will  not — I  swear  I  will  not 
live  without  you !  You  are  mine,  and  all  the  legions  in 
hell  shall  not  part  us !" 

He  stooped,  snatched  her  from  the  chair  as  if  she  had 
been  an  infant,  and  folded  her  in  his  strong  arms. 

"Mr.  Murray,  I  know  she  loves  you.  My  poor  little  trust 
ing  friend !  You  trifled  with  her  warm  heart,  as  you  hope 
to  trifle  with  mine  ;  but  I  know  you ;  you  have  shown  me  how 
utterly  heartless,  remorseless,  unprincipled  you  are.  You 
had  no  right  to  punish  Gertrude  for  her  mother's  sins ;  and 
if  you  had  one  spark  of  honor  in  your  nature,  you  would 
marry  her,  and  try  to  atone  for  the  injury  you  have  already 
done." 

"By  pretending  to  give  her  a  heart  which  belongs  entirely 
to  you?  If  I  wished  to  deceive  you  now,  think  you  I  would 
have  told  all  that  hideous  past,  which  you  can  not  abhor  one 
half  as  much  as  I  do?" 

"Your  heart  is  not  mine !  It  belongs  to  sin,  or  you  could 
not  have  so  maliciously  deceived  poor  Gertrude.  You  love 
nothing  but  your  ignoble  revenge  and  the  gratification  of 
your  self-love !  You " 

"Take  care,  do  not  rouse  me.  Be  reasonable,  little  dar 
ling.  You  doubt  my  love  ?  Well,  I  ought  not  to  wonder  at 


282  ST.  ELMO. 

your  scepticism  after  all  you  have  heard.  But  you  can  feel 
how  my  heart  throbs  against  your  cheek,  and  if  you  will 
look  into  my  eyes,  you  will  be  convinced  that  I  am  fear 
fully  in  earnest,  when  I  beg  you  to  be  my  wife  to-morrow — 
to-day — now !  if  yor  will  only  let  me  send  for  a  minister  or 
a  magistrate!  You  are " 

"You  asked  Annie  to  be  your  wife,  and " 

"Hush !  hush !  L  ook  at  me.  Edna,  raise  your  head  and 
look  at  me." 

i  She  tried  to  break  away,  and  finding  it  impossible, 
pressed  both  hands  over  her  face  and  hid  it  against  his 
shoulder. 

He  laughed,  and  whispered: 

"My  darling,  I  know  what  that  means.  You  dare  not 
look  up  because  you  cannot  trust  your  own  eyes !  Because 
you  dread  for  me  to  see  something  there  which  you  want  to 
hide,  which  you  think  it  your  duty  to  conceal." 

He  felt  a  long  shudder  creep  over  her,  and  she  answered 
resolutely : 

"Do  you  think,  sir,  that  I  could  love  a  murderer  ?  A  man 
whose  hands  are  red  with  the  blood  of  the  son  of  my  best 
friend?" 

"Look  at  me  then." 

He  raised  her  head,  drew  down  her  hands,  took  them 
firmly  in  one  of  his,  and  placing  the  other  under  her  chin, 
lifted  the  burning  face  close  to  his  own. 

She  dreaded  the  power  of  his  lustrous,  mesmeric  eyes, 
and  instantly  her  long  silky  lashes  swept  her  flushed  cheeks. 

"Ah !  you  dare  not !  You  can  not  look  me  steadily  in  the 
eye  and  say,  'St.  Elmo,  I  never  have  loved — do  not — and 
never  can  love  you !'  You  are  too  truthful ;  your  lips  can 
not  dissemble.  I  know  you  do  not  want  to  love  me.  Your 
reason,  your  conscience  forbid  it ;  you  are  struggling  to 
crush  your  heart.  You  think  it  your  duty  to  despise  and 
hate  me.  But,  my  own,  Edna — my  darling!  my  darling! 
you  do  love  me !  You  know  you  do  love  me,  though  you  will 
not  confess  it!  My  proud  darling!" 

He  drew  the  face  tenderly  to  his  own,  and  kissed  her 
quivering  lips  repeatedly,  and  at  last  a  moan  of  anguish 
told  how  she  was  wrestling  with  her  heart. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  hide  your  love  from  my  eager 


ST.  ELMO.  283 

eyes?  Oh!  I  know  that  I  am  unworthy  of  you!  I  feel  it 
more  and  more  every  day,  every  hour.  It  is  because  you 
seem  so  noble — so  holy — to  my  eyes,  that  I  reverence  while 
I  love  you.  You  are  so  far  above  all  other  women — so  glori 
fied  in  your  pure,  consistent  piety — that  you  only  have  the 
power  to  make  my  future  life — redeem  the  wretched  and 
sinful  past.  I  tempted  and  tried  you,  and  when  you  proved 
so  true  and  honest  and  womanly,  you  kindled  a  faint  beam 
of  hope  that,  after  all,  there  might  be  truth  and  saving, 
purifying  power  in  religion.  Do  you  know  that  since  this 
church  was  finished  I  have  never  entered  it  until  a  month 
ago,  when  I  followed  you  here,  and  crouched  downstairs — 
yonder,  behind  one  of  the  pillars,  and  heard  your  sacred 
songs,  your  hymns  so  full  of  grandeur,  so  full  of  pathos, 
that  I  could  not  keep  back  my  tears  while  I  listened.  Since 
then  I  have  come  every  Saturday  afternoon,  and  during  the 
hour  spent  here  my  unholy  nature  was  touched  and  softened 
as  no  sermon  ever  touched  it.  Oh !  you  wield  a  power  over 
me — over  all  my  future,  which  ought  to  make  you  tremble ! 
The  first  generous  impulse  that  has  stirred  my  callous,  bit 
ter  soul  since  I  was  a  boy,  I  owe  to  you.  I  went  first  to  see 
poor  Reed,  in  order  to  discover  what  took  you  so  often  to 
that  cheerless  place;  and  my  interest  in  little  Huldah  arose 
from  the  fact  that  you  loved  the  child.  Oh.  my  darling!  I 
know  I  have  been  sinful  and  cruel  and  blasphemous;  but  it 
is  not  too  late  for  me  to  atone !  It  is  not  too  late  for  me  to 
do  some  good  in  the  world;  and  if  you  will  only  love  me, 
and  trust  me,  and  help  me " 

His  voice  faltered,  his  tears  fell  upon  her  forehead,  and 
stooping  he  kissed  her  lips  softly,  reverently,  as  if  he  real 
ized  the  presence  of  something  sacred. 

"My  precious  Edna,  no  oath  shall  ever  soil  my  lips  again ; 
the  touch  of  yours  has  purified  them.  I  have  been  mad — 
I  think,  for  many,  many  years,  and  I  loath  my  past  life; 
but  remember  how  sorely  I  was  tried,  and  be  merciful  when 
you  judge  me.  With  your  dear  little  hand  in  mine  to  lead 
me,  I  will  make  amends  for  the  ruin  and  suffering  I  have 
wrought,  and  my  Edna — my  own  wife,  shall  save  me!" 

Before  the  orphan's  mental  vision  rose  the  picture  of  Ger 
trude,  the  trembling  coral  mouth,  the  childish  wistful  eyes, 
the  lovely  head  nestled  down  so  often  and  so  lovingly  on 


284  ST.  ELMO. 

her  shoulder;  and  she  saw,  too,  the  bent  figure  and  white 
locks  of  her  beloved  pastor,  as  he  sat  in  his  old  age,  in  his 
childless,  desolate  home,  facing  the  graves  of  his  murdered 
children. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Murray !  You  can  not  atone !  You  can  not  call 
your  victims  from  their  tombs.  You  can  not  undo  what  yon 
have  done !  What  amends  can  you  make  to  Mr.  Hammond, 
and  to  my  poor  little  confiding  Gertrude?  I  can  not  help 
you !  I  can  not  save  you !" 

"Hush!  You  can,  you  shall!  Do  you  think  I  will  ever 
give  you  up?  Have  mercy  on  my  lonely  life!  my  wretched, 
darkened  soul.  Lean  your  dear  head  here  on  my  heart,  and 
say,  'St.  Elmo,  what  a  wife  can  do  to  save  her  erring,  sinful 
husband,  I  will  do  for  you.'  If  I  am  ever  to  be  saved,  you, 
you  only  can  effect  my  redemption ;  for  I  trust,  I  reverence 
you.  Edna,  as  you  value  my  soul,  my  eternal  welfare,  give 
yourself  to  me !  Give  your  pure,  sinless  life  to  purify  mine." 

With  a  sudden  bound  she  sprang  from  his  embrace,  and 
lifted  her  arms  toward  the  Christ,  who  seemed  to  shudder 
as  the  flickering  light  of  fading  day  fell  through  waving 
foliage  upon  it. 

"Look  yonder  to  Jesus,  bleeding!  Only  his  blood  can 
wash  away  your  guilt.  Mr.  Murray,  I  can  never  be  your 
wife.  I  have  no  confidence  in  you.  Knowing  how  syste 
matically  you  have  deceived  others,  how  devoid  of  consci 
entious  scruples  you  are,  I  should  never  be  sure  that  I  too 

was  not  the  victim  of  your  heartless  cynicism.  Beside, 
j " 

"Hush !  hush !  To  your  keeping  I  commit  my  conscience 
and  my  heart." 

"No!  no!  I  am  no  vicegerent  of  an  outraged  and  in 
sulted  God !  I  put  no  faith  in  any  man  whose  conscience 
another  keeps.  From  the  species  of  fascination  which  you 
exert,  I  shrink  with  unconquerable  dread  and  aversion,  and 
would  almost  as  soon  entertain  the  thought  of  marrying 
Lucifer- himself.  Oh!  your  perverted  nature  shocks,  repels, 
astonishes,  grieves  me.  I  can  neither  respect  nor  trust  you. 
Mr.  Murray,  have  mercy  upon  yourself!  Go  yonder  to 
Jesus.  He  only  can  save  and  purify  you." 

"Edna,  you  do  not,  you  can  not  intend  to  leave  me  ?  Dar- 
ling " 


ST.  ELMO.  285 

He  held  out  his  arms  and  moved  toward  her,  but  she 
sprang  past  him,  down  the  steps  of  the  gallery,  out  of  the 
church,  and  paused  only  at  sight  of  the  dark,  dull  spot  on 
the  white  steps,  where  Annie  Hammond  had  lain  insensible. 

An  hour  later,  St.  Elmo  Murray  raised  his  face  from  the 
mahogany  railing  where  it  had  rested  since  Edna  left  him, 
and  looked  around  the  noble  pile  which  his  munificence  had 
erected.  A  full  moon  eyed  him  pityingly  through  the 
stained  glass,  and  the  gleam  of  the  marble  pulpit  was  chill 
and  ghostly ;  and  in  that  weird  light  the  Christ  was  threat 
ening,  wrathful,  appalling. 

As  St.  Elmo  stood  there  alone,  confronting  the  picture — 
confronting  the  past — memory,  like  the  Witch  of  Endor, 
called  up  visions  of  the  departed  that  were  more  terrible 
than  the  mantled  form  of  Israel's  prophet;  and  the  proud, 
hopeless  man  bowed  his  haughty  head,  with  a  cry  of  an 
guish  that  rose  mournfully  to  the  vaulted  ceiling  of  the 
sanctuary : 

"  It  went  up  single,  echoless,  '  My  God !  I  am  forsaken !' " 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE  weather  was  so  inclement  on  the  following  day  that 
no  service  was  held  in  the  church ;  but,  notwithstanding  the 
heavy  rain,  Edna  went  to  the  parsonage  to  bid  adieu  to  her 
pastor  and  teacher.  When  she  ascended  the  steps  Mr. 
Hammond  was  walking  up  and  down  the  portico  with  his 
hands  clasped  behind  him,  as  was  his  habit  when  engrossed 
by  earnest  thought;  and  he  greeted  his  pupil  with  a  degree 
of  mournful  tenderness  very  soothing  to  her  sad  heart. 

Leading  the  way  .0  his  study,  where  Mrs.  Powell  sat 
with  an  open  book  on  her  lap,  he  said  gently : 

"Agnes,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  leave  us  for  a  while? 
This  is  the  last  interview  I  shall  have  with  Edna  for  a  long 
time,  perhaps  forever,  and  there  are  some  things  I  wish  to 
say  to  her  alone.  You  will  find  a  better  light  in  the  dining- 
room,  where  all  is  qaiet." 

As  Mrs.  Pov:ell  withdrew  he  locked  the  door,  and  for 
some  seconds  paced  the  floor ;  then,  taking  a  seat  on  the 
chintz-covered  lounge  beside  his  pupil,  he  said  eagerly: 

"St.  Elmo  was  at  the  church  yesterday  afternoon.  Are 
you  willing  to  tell  me  what  passed  between  you  ?" 

"Mr.  Hammond,  he  told  me  his  melancholy  history.  I 
know  all  now — know  why  he  shrinks  from  meeting  you, 
whom  he  has  injured  so  cruelly;  know  all  his  guilt  and  your 
desolation." 

The  old  man  bowed  his  white  head  on  his  bosom,  and 
there  was  a  painful  silence.  When  he  spoke,  his  voice  was 
scarcely  audible. 

"The  punishment  of  Eli  has  fallen  heavily  upon  me,  and 
there  have  been  hours  when  I  thought  that  it  was  greater 
than  I  could  bear — that  it  would  utterly  crush  me;  but  the 
bitterness  of  the  curse  has  passed  away;  and  I  can  say 
truly  of  that  'meekest  angel  of  God,'  the  Angel  of  Patience: 

[286] 


ST.  ELMO.  287 

'  He  walks  with  thee,  that  angel  kind, 
And  gently  whispers,  Be  resigned ; 
Bear  up,  bear  on;  the  end  shall  tell, 
The  dear  Lord  ordereth  all  things  well !' 

"I  tried  to  train  up  my  children  in  the  fear  and  admoni 
tion  of  the  Lord;  but  I  must  have  failed  signally  in  my 
duty,  though  I  have  never  been  able  to  discover  in  what 
respect  I  was  negligent.  One  of  the  sins  of  my  life  was 
my  inordinate  pride  in  my  only  boy — my  gifted,  gifted, 
handsome  son.  My  love  for  Murray  was  almost  idolatrous ; 
and  when  my  heart  throbbed  with  proudest  hopes  and  as 
pirations,  my  idol  was  broken  and  laid  low  in  the  dust ;  and, 
like  David  mourning  for  his  rebellious  child  Absalom,  I 
cried  out  in  my  affliction,  'My  son!  my  son!  would  God  I 
had  died  for  thee!'  Murray  Hammond  was  my  precious 
diadem  of  earthly  glory;  and  suddenly  I  found  myself  un 
crowned,  and  sackcloth  and  ashes  were  my  portion." 

"Why  did  you  never  confide  these  sorrows  to  me?  Did 
you  doubt  my  earnest  sympathy?" 

"No,  my  child ;  but  I  thought  it  best  that  St.  Elmo  should 
lift  the  veil  and  show  you  all  that  he  wished  you  to  know. 
I  felt  assured  that  the  time  would  come  when  he  considered 
it  due  to  himself  to  acquaint  you  with  his  sad  history ;  and 
when  I  saw  him  go  into  the  church  yesterday  I  knew  that 
the  hour  had  arrived.  I  did  not  wish  to  prejudice  you 
against  him ;  for  I  believe  that  through  your  agency  the 
prayers  of  twenty  years  would  be  answered,  and  that  his 
wandering,  embittered  heart  would  follow  you  to  that 
cross  before  which  he  bowed  in  his  boyhood.  Edna,  it  was 
through  my  son's  sin  and  duplicity  that  St.  Elmo's  noble 
career  was  blasted,  and  his  most  admirable  character  per 
verted;  and  I  have  hoped  and  believed  that  through  your 
influence,  my  beloved  pupil,  he  would  be  redeemed  from  his 
reckless  course.  My  dear  little  Edna,  you  are  very  lovely 
and  winning,  and  I  believe  he  would  love  you  as  he  never 
loved  any  one  else.  Oh !  I  have  hoped  everything  from  your 
influence!  Far,  far  beyond  all  computation  is  the  good 
which  a  pious,  consistent,  Christian  wife  can  accomplish  in 
the  heart  of  a  husband  who  truly  loves  her." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hammond !  you  pain  and  astonish  me.  Surely 
you  would  not  be  willing  to  see  me  marry  a  man  who  scoffs 


288  ST.  ELMO. 

at  the  very  name  of  religion;  who  wilfully  deceives  and 
trifles  with  the  feelings  of  all  who  are  sufficiently  credulous 
to  trust  his  hollow  professions — whose  hands  are  red  with 
the  blood  of  your  children!  What  hope  of  happiness  or 
peace  could  you  indulge  for  me,  in  view  of  such  a 
union?  I  should  merit  all  the  wretchedness  that  would 
inevitably  be  my  life-long  portion  if,  knowing  his  crimes,  I 
could  consent  to  link  my  future  with  his." 

"He  would  not  deceive  you,  my  child!  If  you  knew  him 
as  well  as  I  do,  if  you  could  realize  all  that  he  was  before 
his  tender,  loving  heart  was  stabbed  by  the  two  whom  he 
almost  adored,  you  would  judge  him  more  leniently.  Edna, 
if  I  whom  he  has  robbed  of  all  that  made  life  beautiful — 
if  I,  standing  here  in  my  lonely  old  age,  in  sight  of  the 
graves  of  my  murdered  darlings — if  I  can  forgive  him,  and 
pray  for  him,  and,  as  God  is  my  witness,  love  him!  you 
have  no  right  to  visit  my  injuries  and  my  sorrows  upon 
him !" 

Edna  looked  in  amazement  at  his  troubled  earnest  counte 
nance,  and  exclaimed: 

"Oh !  if  he  knew  all  your  noble  charity,  your  unparal 
leled  magnanimity,  surely,  surely,  your  influence  would  be 
his  salvation!  His  stubborn,  bitter  heart  would  be  melted. 
But,  sir,  I  should  have  a  right  to  expect  Annie's  sad  fate  if 
I  could  forget  her  sufferings  and  her  wrongs." 

Mr.  Hammond  rose  and  walked  to  the  window,  and  after 
a  time,  when  he  resumed  his  seat,  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears, 
and  his  wrinkled  face  was  strangely  pallid. 

"My  darling  Annie,  my  sweet,  fragile 'flower,  my  precious 
little  daughter,  so  like  her  sainted  mother!  Ah!  it  is  not 
surprising  that  she  could  not  resist  his  fascinations.  But, 
Edna,  he  never  loved  my  pet  lamb.  Do  you  know  that  you 
have  become  almost  as  dear  to  me  as  my  own  dead  child? 
She  deceived  me!  she  was  willing  to  forsake  her  father  in 
his  old  age;  but  through  long  years  you  have  never  once 
betrayed  my  perfect  confidence." 

The  old  man  put  his  thin  hand  on  the  orphan's  head  and 
turned  the  countenance  toward  him. 

"My  dear  little  girl,  you  will  not  think  me  impertinently 
curious  when  I  ask  you  a  question,  which  my  sincere  affec- 


ST.  ELMO.  289 

tion  for  and  interest  in  you  certainly  sanction?  Do  you 
love  St.  Elmo?" 

"Mr.  Hammond,  it  is  not  love;  for  esteem,  respect,  con 
fidence,  belong  to  love.  But  I  can  not  deny  that  he  exerts 
a  very  singular,  a  wicked  fascination  over  me.  I  dread  his 
evil  influence,  I  avoid  his  presence,  and  know  that  he  is 
utterly  unworthy  of  any  woman's  trust;  and  yet — and 
yet — Oh,  sir!  I  feel  that  I  am  very  weak,  and  I  fear  that 
I  am  unwomanly ;  but  I  can  not  despise,  I  can  not  hate  him 
as  I  ought  to  do !" 

"Is  not  this  feeling  on  your  part  one  of  the  causes  that 
hurry  you  away  to  New  York?" 

"That  is  certainly  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  am  anxious 
to  go  away  as  early  as  possible.  Oh,  Mr.  Hammond !  much 
as  I  love,  much  as  I  owe  you  and  Mrs.  Murray,  I  some 
times  wish  that  I  had  never  come  here!  Never  seen  Le 
Bocage,  and  the  mocking,  jeering  man  who  owns  it!" 

"Try  to  believe  that  somehow  in  the  mysterious  Divine 
economy  it  is  all  for  the  best.  In  reviewing  the  apparently 
accidental  circumstances  that  placed  you  among  us,  I  have 
thought  that,  because  this  was  your  appointed  field  of  labor, 
God  in  his  wisdom  brought  you  where  he  designed  you  to 
work.  Does  Mrs.  Murray  know  that  her  son  offered  to 
make  you  his  wife?" 

"No !  no !  I  hope  she  never  will ;  for  it  would  mortify 
her  exceedingly  to  know  that  he  could  be  willing  to  give 
his  proud  name  to  one  of  whose  lineage  she  is  so  ignorant. 
How  did  you  know  it?" 

"I  knew  what  his  errand  must  be  when  he  forced  himself 
to  visit  a  spot  so  fraught  with  painful  memories  as  my 
church.  Edna,  I  shall  not  urge  you ;  but  ponder  well  the 
step  you  are  taking;  for  St.  Elmo's  future  will  be  colored 
by  your  decision.  I  have  an  abiding  and  comforting  faith 
that  he  will  yet  lift  himself  out  of  the  abyss  of  sinful  dissi 
pation  and  scoffing  scepticism,  and  your  hand  would  aid 
him  as  none  other  human  can." 

"Mr.  Hammond,  it  seems  incredible  that  you  can  plead 
for  him.  Oh,  do  not  tempt  me !  Do  not  make  me  believe 
that  I  could  restore  his  purity  of  faith  and  life.  Do  not 
tell  me  that  it  would  be  right  to  give  my  hand  to  a  blas 
phemous  murderer  ?  Oh !  my  own  heart  is  weak  enough 


290  ST.  ELMO. 

already!  I  know  that  I  am  right  in  my  estimate  of  his_un- 
scrupulous  character,  and  I  am  neither  so  vain  nor  so  blind 
as  to  imagine  that  my  feeble  efforts  could  accomplish  for 
him  what  all  your  noble  magnanimity  and  patient  endeavors 
have  entirely  failed  to  effect.  If  he  can  obstinately  resist 
the  influence  of  your  life,  he  would  laugh  mine  to  scorn. 
It  is  hard  enough  for  me  to  leave  him,  when  I  feel  that  duty 
demands  it.  Oh,  my  dear  Mr.  Hammond !  do  not  attempt 
to  take  from  me  the  only  staff  which  can  carry  me  firmly 
away — do  not  make  my  trial  even  more  severe.  I  must  not 
see  his  face;  for  I  will  not  be  his  wife.  Instead  of  weaken 
ing  my  resolution  by  holding  out  flattering  hopes  of  re 
forming  him,  pray  for  me!  oh!  pray  for  me!  that  I  may 
be  strengthened  to  flee  from  a  great  temptation!  I  will 
marry  no  man  who  is  not  an  earnest,  humble  believer  in  the 
religion  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Rather  than  become 
the  wife  of  a  sacrilegious  scoffer,  such  as  I  know  Mr.  Mur 
ray  to  be,  I  will,  so  help  me  God !  live  and  work  alone,  and 
go  down  to  my  grave,  Edna  Earl !" 

The  minister  sighed  heavily. 

"Bear  one  thing  in  mind.  It  has  been  said,  that  in  dis 
avowing  guardianship,  we  sometimes  slaughter  Abel.  You 
can  not  understand  my  interest  in  St.  Elmo.  Remember 
that  if  his  wretched  soul  is  lost  at  last,  it  will  be  required 
at  the  hands  of  my  son,  in  that  dread  day — Dies  Irce!  Dies 
Ilia! — when  we  shall  stand  at  the  final  judgment!  Do  you 
wonder  that  I  struggle  in  prayer,  and  in  all  possible  human 
endeavor  to  rescue  him  from  ruin ;  so  that  when  I  am 
called  from  earth,  I  can  meet  the  spirit  of  my  only  boy  with 
the  blessed  tidings  that  the  soul  he  jeopardized,  and  well- 
nigh  wrecked,  has  been  redeemed !  is  safe !  anchored  once 
more  in  the  faith  of  Christ?  But  I  will  say  no  more.  Your 
own  heart  and  conscience  must  guide  you  in  this  matter. 
It  would  pour  a  flood  of  glorious  sunshine  upon  my  sad 
and  anxious  heart,  as  I  go  down  to  my  grave,  if  I  could 
know  that  you,  whose  life  and  character  I  have  in  great 
degree  moulded,  were  instrumental  in  saving  one  whom  I 
have  loved  so  long,  so  well,  and  under  such  afflicting  circum 
stances,  as  my  poor  St.  Elmo." 

"To  the  mercy  of  his  Maker,  and  the  intercession  of  his 
Saviour,  I  commit  him." 


ST.  ELMO.  291 

'As  for  me,  I  go  my  way,  onward,  upward.' " 

A  short  silence  ensued,  and  at  last  Edna  rose  to  say  good 
bye. 

"Do  you  still  intend  to  leave  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing?  I  fear  you  will  have  bad  weather  for  your  journey." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  shall  certainly  start  to-morrow.  And  now,  I 
must  leave  you.  Oh,  my  best  friend!  how  can  I  tell  you 
good-bye!" 

The  minister  folded  her  in  his  trembling  arms,  and  his 
silver  locks  mingled  with  her  black  hair,  while  he  solemnly 
blessed  her.  She  sobbed  as  he  pressed  his  lips  to  her  fore 
head,  and  gently  put  her  from  him ;  and  turning,  she  hur 
ried  away,  anxious  to  escape  the  sight  of  Gertrude's  accus 
ing  face ;  for  she  supposed  that  Mrs.  Powell  had  repeated  to 
her  daughter  Mr.  Murray's  taunting  words. 

Since  the  previous  evening  she  had  not  spoken  to  St. 
Elmo,  who  did  not  appear  at  breakfast;  but  when  she 
passed  him  in  the  hall  an  hour  later,  he  was  talking  to  his 
mother,  and  took  no  notice  of  her  bow. 

Now  as  the  carriage  approached  the  house,  she  glanced 
in  the  direction  of  his  apartment,  and  saw  him  sitting  at 
the  window,  with  his  elbow  resting  on  the  sill,  and  his 
cheek  on  his  hand. 

She  went  at  once  to  Mrs.  Murray,  and  the  interview  was 
long  and  painful.  The  latter  wept  freely,  and  insisted  that 
if  the  orphan  grew  weary  of  teaching  (as  she  knew  would 
happen),  she  should  come  back  immediately  to  Le  Bocage; 
where  a  home  would  always  be  hers,  and  to  which  a  true 
friend  would  welcome  her. 

At  length,  when  Estelle  Harding  came  in  with  some  let 
ters,  which  she  wished  to  submit  to  her  aunt's  inspection, 
Edna  retreated  to  her  own  quiet  room.  She  went  to  her 
bureau  to  complete  the  packing  of  her  clothes,  and  found 
on  the  marble  slab  a  box  and  note  directed  to  her. 

Mr.  Murray's  handwriting  was  remarkably  graceful,  and 
Edna  broke  the  seal  which  bore  his  motto,  Nemo  me  im- 
pune  lacessit. 

"EDNA:  I  send  for  your  examination  the  contents  of  the 
little  tomb,  which  you  guarded  so  faithfully.  Read  the  letters 


292 


ST.  ELMO. 


written  before  I  was  betrayed.  The  locket  attached  to  a  rib 
bon,  which  was  always  worn  over  my  heart,  and  the  minia 
tures  which  it  contains  are  those  of  Agnes  Hunt  and  Mur 
ray  Hammond.  Read  all  the  record,  and  then  judge  me,  as 
you  hope  to  be  judged.  I  sit  alone,  amid  the  mouldering, 
blackened  ruins  of  my  youth;  will  you  not  listen  to  the 
prayer  of  my  heart,  and  the  half-smothered  pleadings  of. 
your  own,  and  come  to  me  in  my  desolation,  and  help  me 
to  build  up  a  new  and  noble  life?  Oh,  my  darling,  you  can 
make  me  what  you  will.  While  you  read  and  ponder,  I  am 
praying.  Aye,  praying  for  the  first  time  in  twenty  years! 
praying  that  if  God  ever  hears  prayer,  He  will  influence 
your  decision,  and  bring  you  to  me.  Edna,  my  darling! 
I  wait  for  you. 

"Your  own, 

"ST.  ELMO." 

Ah !  how  her  tortured  heart  writhed  and  bled ;  how  pite- 
ously  it  pleaded  for  him,  and  for  itself ! 

Edna  opened  the  locket,  and  if  Gertrude  had  stepped  into 
the  golden  frame,  the  likeness  could  not  have  been  more 
startling.  She  looked  at  it  until  her  lips  blanched  and  were 
tightly  compressed,  and  the  memory  of  Gertrude  became 
paramount.  Murray  Hammond's  face  she  barely  glanced 
at,  and  its  extraordinary  beauty  stared  at  her  like  that  of 
some  avenging  angel.  With  a  shudder  she  put  it  away, 
and  turned  to  the  letters  that  St.  Elmo  had  written  to 
Agnes  and  to  Murray,  in  the  early,  happy  days  of  his  en 
gagement. 

Tender,  beautiful,  loving  letters,  that  breathed  the  most 
devoted  attachment  and  the  purest  piety;  letters  that  were 
full  of  lofty  aspirations,  and  religious  fervor,  and  generous 
schemes  for  the  assistance  and  enlightenment  of  the  poor 
about  Le  Bocage ;  and  especially  for  "my  noble,  matchless 
Murray."  Among  the  papers  were  several  designs  for 
charitable  buildings:  a  house  of  industry,  an  asylum  for 
the  blind,  and  a  free  school-house.  In  an  exquisite  ivory 
casket,  containing  a  splendid  set  of  diamonds,  and  the  costly 
betrothal  ring,  bearing  the  initials,  Edna  found  a  sheet  of 
paper  around  which  the  blazing  necklace  was  twisted.  Dis- 


ST.  ELMO. 


293 


engaging  it,  she  saw  that  it  was  a  narration  of  all  that  had 
stung  him  to  desperation  on  the  night  of  the  murder. 

As  she  read  the  burning  taunts,  the  insults,  the  ridicule 
heaped  by  the  two  under  the  apple-tree  upon  the  fond,  faith 
ful,  generous,  absent  friend,  she  felt  the  indignant  blood 
gush  into  her  face ;  but  she  read  on  and  on,  and  two  hours 
elapsed  ere  she  finished  the  package.  Then  came  a  trial,  a 
long,  fierce,  agonizing  trial,  such  as  few  women  have  ever 
been  called  upon  to  pass  through;  such  as  the  world  be 
lieves  no  woman  ever  triumphantly  endured.  Girded  by 
prayer,  the  girl  went  down  resolutely  into  the  flames  of  the 
furnace,  and  the  ordeal  was  terrible  indeed.  But  as  often 
as  Love  showed  her  the  figure  of  Mr.  Murray,  alone  in  his 
dreary  sitting-room,  waiting,  watching  for  her,  she  turned 
and  asked  of  Duty,  the  portrait  of  Gertrude's  sweet,  anxious 
face;  the  picture  of  dying  Annie;  the  mournful  counte 
nance  of  a  man,  shut  up  by  iron  bars  from  God's  beautiful 
world,  from  the  home  and  the  family  who  had  fondly  cher 
ished  her  in  her  happy  girlhood,  ere  St.  Elmo  trailed  his 
poison  across  her  sunny  path. 

After  another  hour,  the  orphan  went  to  her  desk,  and 
while  she  wrote,  a  pale,  cold  rigidity  settled  upon  her  feat 
ures,  which  told  that  she  was  calmly,  deliberately  shaking 
hands  with  the  expelled,  the  departing  Hagar  of  her  heart's 
hope  and  happiness. 

"To  the  mercy  of  God,  and  the  love  of  Christ,  and  the 
judgment  of  your  own  conscience,  I  commit  you.  Hence 
forth  we  walk  different  paths,  and  after  to-night,  it  is  my 
wish  that  we  meet  no  more  on  earth.  Mr.  Murray,  I  cannot 
lift  up  your  darkened  soul;  and  you  would  only  drag  mine 
down.  For  your  final  salvation  I  shall  never  cease  to  pray 
till  we  stand  face  to  face  before  the  Bar  of  God. 

"EDNA  EARL." 

Ringing  for  a  servant,  she  sent  back  the  box,  and  even 
his  own  note,  which  she  longed  to  keep,  but  would  not 
trust  herself  to  see  again ;  and  dreading  reflection,  and  too 
miserable  to  sleep,  she  went  to  Mrs.  Murray's  room,  and 
remained  with  her  till  three  o'clock. 

Then  Mr.  Murray's  voice  rang  through  the  house,  calling 


294  ST-  ELMO. 

for  the  carriage,  and  as  Edna  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl, 
he  knocked  at  his  mother's  door. 

"It  is  raining  very  hard,  and  you  must  not  think  of  going 
to  the  train,  as  you  intended." 

"But,  my  son,  the  carriage  is  close  and " 

"I  can  not  permit  you  to  expose  yourself  so  unnecessarily, 
and,  in  short,  I  will  not  take  you,  so  there  is  an  end  of  it. 
Of  course  I  can  stand  the  weather,  and  I  will  go  over  with 
Edna,  and  put  her  under  the  care  of  some  one  on  the  train. 
As  soon  as  possible  send  her  down  to  the  carriage.  I  shall 
order  her  trunks  strapped  on." 

He  was  very  pale  and  stern,  and  his  voice  rang  coldly 
clear  as  he  turned  and  went  downstairs. 

The  parting  was  very  painful,  and  Mrs.  Murray  followed 
the  orphan  to  the  front  door. 

"St.  Elmo,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  go.  I  do  not  mind 
the  rain." 

"Impossible.  You  know  I  have  an  unconquerable  horror 
of  scenes,  and  I  do  not  at  all  fancy  witnessing  one  that 
threatens  to  last  until  the  train  leaves.  Go  upstairs  and  cry 
yourself  to  sleep  in  ten  minutes;  that  will  be  much  more 
sensible.  Come,  Edna,  are  you  ready?" 

The  orphan  was  folded  in  a  last  embrace,  and  Mr.  Mur 
ray  held  out  his  hand,  drew  her  from  his  mother's  arms, 
and  taking  his  seat  beside  her  in  the  carriage,  ordered  the 
coachman  to  drive  on. 

The  night  was  very  dark,  the  wind  sobbed  down  the  ave 
nue,  and  the  rain  fell  in  such  torrents  that  as  Edna  leaned 
out  for  a  last  look  at  the  stately  mansion,  which  she  had 
learned  to  love  so  well,  she  could  only  discern  the  outline  of 
the  bronze  monsters  by  the  glimmer  of  the  light  burning  in 
the  hall.  She  shrank  far  back  in  one  corner,  and  her  fingers 
clutched  each  other  convulsively ;  but  when  they  had  passed 
through  the  gate  and  entered  the  main  road  Mr.  Murray's 
hand  was  laid  on  hers — the  cold  fingers  were  unlocked 
gently  but  firmly,  and  raised  to  his  lips. 

She  made  an  effort  to  withdraw  them,  but  found  it  use 
less,  and  the  trial  which  she  had  fancied  was  at  end  seemed 
only  beginning. 

"Edna,  this  is  the  last  time  I  shall  ever  speak  to  you  of 
myself;  the  last  time  I  shall  ever  allude  to  all  that  has 


ST.  ELMO.  295 

passed.  It  is  entirely  useless  for  me  to  ask  you  to  recon 
sider?  If  you  have  no  pity  for  me,  have  some  mercy  on 
yourself.  You  can  not  know  how  I  dread  the  thought  of 
your  leaving  me,  and  being  roughly  handled  by  a  cold,  self 
ish,  ruthless  world.  Oh!  it  maddens  me  when  I  think  of 
your  giving  your  precious  life,  which  would  so  glorify  my 
home  and  gladden  my  desolate  heart,  to  a  public,  who  will 
trample  upon  you  if  possible,  and,  if  it  can  not  entirely 
crush  you,  will  only  value  you  as  you  deserve,  when,  with 
ruined  health  and  withered  hopes,  you  sink  into  the  early 
grave  malice  and  envy  will  have  dug  for  you.  Already 
your  dear  face  has  grown  pale,  and  your  eyes  have  a  rest 
less,  troubled  look,  and  shadows  are  gathering  about  your 
young,  pure,  fresh  spirit.  My  darling,  you  are  not  strong 
enough  to  wrestle  with  the  world ;  you  will  be  trodden  down 
by  the  masses  in  this  conflict,  upon  which  you  enter  so 
eagerly.  Do  you  not  know  that  'literati'  means  literally  the 
branded?  The  lettered  slave!  Oh!  if  not  for  my  sake,  at 
least  for  your  own,  reconsider  before  the  hot  irons  sear 
your  brow;  and  hide  it  here,  my  love;  keep  it  white  and 
pure  and  unfurrowed  here,  in  the  arms  that  will  never 
weary  of  sheltering  and  clasping  you  close  and  safe  from 
the  burning  brand  of  fame.  Literati!  A  bondage  worse 
than  Roman  slavery!  Help  me  to  make  a  proper  use  of 
my  fortune,  and  you  will  do  more  real  good  to  your  race 
than  by  all  you  can  ever  accomplish  with  your  pen,  no  mat 
ter  how  successful  it  may  prove.  If  you  were  selfish  and 
heartless  as  other  women,  adulation  and  celebrity  and  the 
praise  of  the  public  might  satisfy  you.  But  you  are  not, 
and  I  have  studied  your  nature  too  thoroughly  to  mistake 
the  result  of  your  ambitious  career.  My  darling,  ambition 
is  the  mirage  of  the  literary  desert  you  are  anxious  to  tra 
verse;  it  is  the  Bahr  Sheitan,  the  Satan's  water,  which  will 
ever  recede  and  mock  your  thirsty,  toil-spent  soul.  Dear 
little  pilgrim,  do  not  scorch  your  feet  and  wear  out  your 
life  in  the  hot,  blinding  sands,  struggling  in  vain  for  the 
constantly  fading,  vanishing  oasis  of  happy  literary  celeb 
rity.  Ah!  the  Sahara  of  letters  is  full  of  bleaching  bones 
that  tell  where  many  of  your  sex  as  well  as  of  mine  fell 
and  perished  miserably,  even  before  the  noon  of  life.  Am 
bitious  spirit,  come,  rest  in  peace  in  the  cool,  quiet,  happy, 


296  ST.  ELMO. 

palm-grove  that  I  offer  you.  My  shrinking  violet,  sweeter 
than  all  Paestum  boasts !  You  cannot  cope  successfully  with 
the  world  of  selfish  men  and  frivolous,  heartless  women,  of 
whom  you  know  absolutely  nothing.  To-day  I  found  a 
passage  which  you  had  marked  in  one  of  my  books,  and  it 
echoes  ceaselessly  in  my  heart: 

"'My  future  will  not  copy  fair  my  past.' 
I  wrote  that  once;  and  thinking  at  my  side 
My  ministering  life-angel  justified 
T.he  word  by  his  appealing  look  upcast 
To  the  white  throne  of  God,  I  turned  at  last, 
And  there  instead  saw  thee,  not  unallied 
To  angels  in  thy  soul !     *     *     Then  I,  long  tired 
By  natural  ills,  received  the  comfort  fast; 
While  budding  at  thy  sight,  my  pilgrim's  staff 
Gave  out  green  leaves  with  morning  dews  impearled. 
I  seek  no  copy  of  life's  first  half : 
Leave  here  the  pages  with  long  musing  curled, 
Write  me  new  my  future's  epigraph. 
New  angel  mine — unhoped-for  in  the  world !'  " 

He  had  passed  his  arm  around  her  and  drawn  her  close 
to  his  side,  and  the  pleading  tenderness  of  his  low  voice 
was  indeed  hard  to  resist. 

"No,  Mr.  Murray,  my  decision  is  unalterable.  If  you  do 
really  love  me,  spare  me,  spare  me,  further  entreaty.  Be 
fore  we  part  there  are  some  things  I  should  like  to  say,  and 
I  have  little  time  left.  Will  you  hear  me?" 

He  did  not  answer,  but  tightened  his  arm,  drew  h~r  head 
to  his  bosom,  and  leaned  his  face  down  on  hers. 

"Mr.  Murray,  I  want  to  leave  my  Bible  with  you,  because 
there  are  many  passages  marked  which  would  greatly  com 
fort  and  help  you.  It  is  the  most  precious  thing  I  possess, 
for  Grandpa  gave  it  to  me  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  and  I 
could  not  bear  to  leave  it  with  any  one  but  you.  I  have  it 
here  in  my  hand;  will  you  look  into  it  sometimes  if  I  give 
it  to  you  ?" 

He  merely  put  out  his  hand  and  took  it  from  her. 

She  paused  a  few  seconds,  and  as  he  remained  silent,  she 
continued : 

"Mr.  Hammond  is  the  best  friend  you  have  on  earth.  Yes 
terday,  having  seen  you  enter  the  church  and  suspecting 
what  passed,  he  sooke  to  me  of  you,  and  oh!  he  pleaded  for 


ST.  ELMO. 


297 


you  as  only  he  could !  He  urged  me  not  to  judge 
you  too  harshly;  not  to  leave  you,  and  these  were 
his  words:  'Edna,  if  I,  whom  he  has  robbed  of  all 
that  life  made  beautiful;  if  I,  standing  here  alone  in 
my  old  age,  in  sight  of  the  graves  of  my  murdered  darlings, 
if  I  can  forgive  him,  and  pray  for  him,  and,  as  God  is  my 
witness,  love  him!  you  have  no  right  to  visit  my  injuries 
and  my  sorrows  upon  him!'  Mr.  Murray,  he  can  help  you, 
and  he  will,  if  you  will  only  permit  him.  If  you  could 
realize  how  dearly  he  is  interested  in  your  happiness,  you 
could  not  fail  to  reverence  that  religion  which  enables  him  to 
triumph  over  all  the  natural  feelings  of  resentment.  Mr. 
Murray,  you  have  declared  again  and  again  that  you  love 
me.  Oh,  if  it  be  true,  meet  me  in  heaven!  I  know  that  I 
am  weak  and  sinful;  but  I  am  trying  to  correct  the  faults  of 
my  character,  I  am  striving  to  do  what  I  believe  to  be  my 
duty,  and  I  hope  at  last  to  find  a  home  with  my  God.  For 
several  years,  ever  since  you  went  abroad,  I  have  been  pray 
ing  for  you ;  and  while  I  live  I  shall  not  cease  to  do  so.  Oh ! 
will  you  not  pray  for  yourself?  Mr.  Murray,  I  believe  I 
shall  not  be  happy  even  in  heaven  if  I  do  not  see  you  there. 
On  earth  we  are  parted — your  crimes  divide  us ;  but  there ! 
there!  Oh!  for  my  sake,  make  an  effort  to  redeem  your 
self,  and  meet  me  there !" 

She  felt  his  strong  frame  tremble,  and  a  heavy  shudder 
ing  sigh  broke  from  his  lips  and  swept  across  her  cheek. 
But  when  he  spoke  his  words  contained  no  hint  of  the 
promise  she  longed  to  receive : 

"Edna,  my  shadow  has  fallen  across  your  heart,  and  I 
am  not  afraid  that  you  will  forget  me.  You  will  try  to  do 
so,  you  will  give  me  as  little  thought  as  possible ;  you  will 
struggle  to  crush  your  aching  heart,  and  endeavor  to  be  fa 
mous.  But  amid  your  ovations  the  memory  of  a  lonely 
man,  who  loves  you  infinitely  better  tha.i  all  the  world  for 
which  you  forsook  him,  will  come  like  a  breath  from  the 
sepulchre,  to  wither  your  bays ;  and  my  words,  my  plead 
ing  words,  will  haunt  you,  rising  above  the  paeans  of  your 
public  worshippers.  When  the  laurel  crown  you  covet  now 
shall  become  a  chaplet  of  thorns  piercing  your  temples,  or  a 
band  of  iron  that  makes  your  brow  ache,  you  will  think 
mournfully  of  the  days  gone  by,  when  I  prayed  for  the  privi- 


298  ST.  ELMO. 

lege  of  resting  your  weary  head  here  on  my  heart.  You  can 
not  forget  me.  Sinful  and  unworthy  as  I  confess  myself,  I 
am  conqueror,  I  triumph  now,  even  though  you  never  per 
mit  me  to  look  upon  your  face  again ;  for  I  believe  I  have  a 
place  in  my  darling's  heart  which  no  other  man,  which  not 
the  whole  world  can  usurp  or  fill !  You  are  too  proud  to  ac 
knowledge  it,  too  truthful  to  deny  it;  but,  my  pure  Pearl, 
my  heart  feels  it  as  well  as  yours,  and  it  is  a  comfort  of 
which  all  time  can  not  rob  me.  Without  it,  how  could  I 
face  my  future,  so  desolate,  sombre,  lonely  ?  Edna,  the  hour 
has  come  when,  in  accordance  with  your  own  decree,  we 
part.  For  twenty  years  no  woman's  lips,  except  my 
mother's,  have  touched  mine  until  yesterday,  when  they 
pressed  yours.  Perhaps  we  may  never  meet  again  in  this 
world,  and,  ah !  do  not  shrink  away  from  me,  I  want  to  kiss 
you  once  more,  my  darling !  my  darling !  I  shall  wear  it  on 
my  lips  till  death  stiffens  them;  and  I  am  not  at  all  afraid 
that  any  other  man  will  ever  be  allowed  to  touch  lips  that 
belong  to  me  alone ;  that  I  have  made,  and  here  seal,  all  my 
own !  Good-bye." 

He  strained  her  to  him  and  pressed  his  lips  twice  to  hers, 
then  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  railroad  station. 

He  handed  her  out,  found  a  seat  for  her  in  the  cars, 
which  had  just  arrived,  arranged  her  wrappings  comfort 
ably,  and  went  back  to  attend  to  her  trunks.  She  sat  near 
an  open  window,  and  though  it  rained  heavily,  he  buttoned 
his  coat  to  the  throat,  and  stood  just  beneath  it,  with  his 
eyes  bent  down.  Twice  she  pronounced  his  name,  but  he 
did  not  seem  to  hear  her,  and  Edna  put  her  hand  lightly  on 
his  shoulder  and  said : 

"Do  not  stand  here  in  the  rain.  In  a  few  minutes  we 
shall  start,  and  I  prefer  that  you  should  not  wait.  Please 
go  home  at  once,  Mr.  Murray." 

He  shook  his  head,  but  caught  her  hand  and  leaned  his 
cheek  against  the  soft  palm,  passing  it  gently  and  caress 
ingly  over  his  haggard  face. 

The  engine  whistled;  Mr.  Murray  pressed  a  long,  warm 
kiss  on  the  hand  he  had  taken,  the  cars  moved  on;  and  as 
he  lifted  his  hat,  giving  her  one  of  his  imperial,  graceful 
bows,  Edna  had  a  last  glimpse  of  the  dark,  chiselled,  repul 
sive  yet  handsome  face  that  had  thrown  its  baleful  image 


ST.  ELMO. 


299 


deep  in  her  young  heart,  and  defied  all  her  efforts  to  expel  it. 
The  wind  howled  around  the  cars,  the  rain  fell  heavily,  beat 
ing  a  dismal  tattoo  on  the  glass,  the  night  was  mournfully 
dreary,  and  the  orphan  sank  back  and  lowered  her  veil,  and 
hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Henceforth  she  felt  that  in  obedience  to  her  own  decision 
and  fiat 

"They  stood  aloof,  the  scars  remaining 
Like  cliffs  that  had  been  rent  asunder; 
A  dreary  sea  now  flows  between ; 
But  neither  heat  nor  frost  nor  thunder 
Shall  wholly  do  away,  I  ween, 
The  marks  of  that  which  once  hath  been." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

As  DAY  dawned  the  drab  clouds  blanched,  broke  up  in 
marbled  masses,  the  rain  ceased,  the  wind  sang  out  of  the 
west,  heralding  the  coming  blue  and  gold,  and  at  noon  not 
one  pearly  vapor  sail  dotted  the  sky.  During  the  afternoon 
Edna  looked  anxiously  for  the  first  glimpse  of  "Lookout," 
but  a  trifling  accident  detained  the  train  for  several  hours, 
and  it  was  almost  twilight  when  she  saw  it,  a  purple  spot 
staining  the  clear  beryl  horizon;  spreading  rapidly,  shifting 
its  Tyrian  mantle  for  gray  robes;  and  at  length  the  rising 
moon  silvered  its  rocky  crest,  as  it  towered  in  silent  majesty 
over  the  little  village  nestled  at  its  base.  The  kind  and  gen 
tlemanly  conductor  on  the  cars  accompanied  Edna  to  the 
hotel,  and  gave  her  a  parcel  containing  several  late  papers. 
As  she  sat  in  her  small  room,  weary  and  yet  sleepless,  she 
tried  to  divert  her  thoughts  by  reading  the  journals,  and 

found  in  three  of  them  notices  of  the  last  number  of 

Magazine,  and  especial  mention  of  her  essay:    "Keeping  the 
Vigil  of  St.  Martin  under  the  Pines  of  Griitli." 

The  extravagant  laudations  of  this  article  surprised  her, 
and  she  saw  that  while  much  curiosity  was  indulged  con 
cerning  the  authorship,  one  of  the  editors  ventured  to  at 
tribute  it  to  a  celebrated  and  very  able  writer,  whose  genius 
and  erudition  had  lifted  him  to  an  enviable  eminence  in  the 
world  of  American  letters.  The  criticisms  were  excessively 
flattering,  and  the  young  author,  gratified  at  the  complete 
success  that  had  crowned  her  efforts,  cut  out  the  friendly 
notices,  intending  to  enclose  them  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Mur 
ray. 

Unable  to  sleep,  giving  audience  to  memories  of  her  early 
childhood,  she  passed  the  night  at  her  window,  watching  the 
constellations  go  down  behind  the  dark,  frowning  mass  of 
rock  that  lifted  its  parapets  to  the  midnight  sky,  and  in  the 
morning  light  saw  the  cold,  misty  cowl  drawn  over  the  ven 
erable  hoary  head. 

[300] 


ST.  ELMO. 


301 


th 


The  village  had  changed  so  materially  that  she  could 
scarcely  recognize  any  of  the  old  landmarks,  and  the  people 
who  kept  the  hotel  could  tell  her  nothing  about  Peter  Wood, 
the  miller.  After  breakfast  she  took  a  box  containing  some 
flowers  packed  in  wet  cotton,  and  walked  out  on  the  road 
leading  in  the  direction  of  the  blacksmith's  shop.  Very  soon 
the  trees  became  familiar,  she  remembered  every  turn  of  the 
road  and  bend  on  the  fences;  and  at  last  the  grove  of  oak 
and  chestn  shading  the  knoll  at  the  intersection  of  the 
roads  met  her  eye.  She  looked  for  the  forge  and  bellows, 
for  the  anvil  and  slack-tub ;  but  shop  and  shed  had  fallen  to 
decay,  and  only  a  heap  of  rubbish,  overgrown  with  rank 
weeds  and  vines,  marked  the  spot  where  she  had  spent  so 
many  happy  hours.  The  glowing  yellow  chestnut  leaves 
dropped  down  at  her  feet,  and  the  oaks  tossed  their  gnarled 
arms  as  if  welcoming  the  wanderer  whose  head  they  had 
shaded  in  infancy,  and,  stifling  a  moan,  the  orphan  hurried 
on. 

She  saw  that  the  timber  had  been  cut  down,  and  fences 
enclosed  cultivated  fields  where  forests  had  stood  when  she 
went  away.  At  a  sudden  bend  in  the  narrow,  irregular  road 
when  she  held  her  breath  and  leaned  forward  to  see  the  old 
house  where  she  was  born  and  reared,  a  sharp  cry  of  pain 

Icaped  her.  Not  a  vestige  of  the  homestead  remained,  save 
e  rocky  chimney,  standing  in  memoriam  in  the  centre  of  a 
cornfield.  She  leaned  against  the  low  fence,  and  tears 
trickled  down  her  cheeks  as  memory  rebuilt  the  log-house, 
and  placed  the  split-bottomed  rocking-chair  on  the  porch  in 
front,  and  filled  it  with  the  figure  of  a  white-haired  old  man, 
with  his  pipe  in  his  hand  and  his  blurred  eyes  staring  at  the 
moon. 

Through  the  brown  corn-stalks  she  could  see  the  gaping 
mouth  of  the  well,  now  partly  filled  with  rubbish;  and  the 
wreaths  of  scarlet  cypress  which  once  fringed  the  shed 
above  it  and  hung  their  flaming  trumpets  down  until  they 
almost  touched  her  childish  head,  as  she  sang  at  the  well 
where  she  scoured  the  cedar  piggin,  were  bereft  of  all  sup 
port  and  trailed  helplessly  over  the  ground.  Close  to  the 
fence,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  plough  and  hoe,  a  yellow 
four-o'clock  with  closed  flowers  marked  the  location  of  the 
little  garden ;  and  one  tall  larkspur  leaned  against  the  fence, 


302 


ST.  ELMO. 


sole  survivor  of  the  blue  pets  that  Edna  had  loved  so  well  in 
the  early  years.  She  put  her  fingers  through  a  crevice, 
broke  the  plumy  spray,  and  as  she  pressed  it  to  her  face,  she 
dropped  her  head  upon  the  rails  and  gave  herself  up  to  the 
flood  of  painful  yet  inexpressibly  precious  memories. 

How  carefully  she  had  worked  and  weeded  this  little  plat; 
how  proud  she  once  was  of  her  rosemary  and  pinks,  her 
double  feathery  poppies,  her  sweet-scented  lemon-grass; 
how  eagerly  she  had  transplanted  wood  violets  and  purple 
phlox  from  the  forest;  how  often  she  had  sat  on  the  steps 
watching  for  her  grandfather's  return,  and  stringing  those 
four-o'clock  blossoms  into  golden  crowns  for  her  own 
young  head ;  and  how  gayly  she  had  sometimes  swung  them 
over  Brindle's  horns,  when  she  went  out  to  milk  her. 

"Ah !  sad  and  strange,  as  in  dark  summer  dawns 
The  earliest  pipe  of  half-awakened  birds 
To  dying  ears,  when  unto  dying  eyes 
The  casement  slowly  grows  a  glimmering  square; 
So  sad,  so  strange,  the  days  that  are  no  more." 

With  a  sob  she  turned  away  and  walked  in  the  direction 
of  the  burying-ground ;  for  there,  certainly,  she  would  find 
all  unchanged ;  graves  at  least  were  permanent. 

The  little  spring  bubbled  as  of  yore,  the  brush  creepers 
made  a  tangled  tapestry  around  it,  and  crimson  and  blue 
convolvulus  swung  their  velvety,  dew-beaded  chalices  above 
it,  as  on  that  June  morning  long  ago  when  she  stood  there 
filling  her  bucket,  waiting  for  the  sunrise. 

She  took  off  her  gloves,  knelt  down  beside  the  spring, 
and  dipping  up  the  cold,  sparkling  water  in  her  palms,  drank 
and  wept,  and  drank  again.  She  bathed  her  aching  eyes, 
and  almost  cheated  herself  into  the  belief  that  she  heard 
again  Grip's  fierce  bark  ringing  through  the  woods,  and  the 
slow,'  drowsy  tinkle  of  Brindle's  bell.  Turning  aside  from 
the  beaten  track,  she  entered  the  thick  grove  of  chestnuts, 
and  looked  around  for  the  grave  of  the  Dents ;  but  the 
mound  had  disappeared,  and  though  she  recognized  the  par 
ticular  tree  which  had  formerly  overhung  it,  and  searched 
the  ground  carefully,  she  could  discover  no  trace  of  the 
hillock  where  she  had  so  often  scattered  flowers.  A  squirrel 
leaped  and  frisked  in  the  boughs  above  her,  and  she  startled 


ST.  ELMO. 


305 


a  rabbit  from  the  thick  grass  and  fallen  yellow  leaves;  but 
neither  these,  nor  the  twitter  of  gossiping  orioles,  nor  the 
harsh,  hungry  cry  of  a  bluebird  told  her  a  syllable  of  all  that 
had  happened  in  her  absence. 

She  conjectured  that  the  bodies  had  probably  been  disin 
terred  by  friends  and  removed  to  Georgia ;  and  she  hurried 
on  toward  the  hillside,  where  the  neighborhood  graveyard 
was  situated.  The  rude,  unpainted  paling  still  enclosed  it, 
and  rows  of  headboards  stretched  away  among  grass 
and  weeds ;  but  whose  was  that  shining  marble  shaft,  stand 
ing  in  the  centre  of  a  neatly  arranged  square,  around  which 
ran  a  handsome  iron  railing?  On  that  very  spot,  in  years 
gone  by,  had  stood  a  piece  of  pine  board:  "Sacred  to  the 
memory  of  Aaron  Hunt,  an  honest  blacksmith  and  true 
Christian." 

Who  had  dared  to  disturb  his  bones,  to  violate  his  last 
resting-place,  and  to  steal  his  grave  for  the  interment  of 
some  wealthy  stranger?  A  cry  of  horror  and  astonishment 
broke  from  the  orphan's  trembling  lips,  and  she  shaded  her 
eyes  with  her  hand,  and  tried  to  read  the  name  inscribed  on 
the  monument  of  the  sacrilegious  interloper.  But  bitter, 
scalding  tears  of  indignation  blinded  her.  She  dashed  them 
away,  but  they  gathered  and  fell  faster;  and,  unbolting  the 
gate,  she  entered  the  enclosure  and  stepped  close  to  the 
marble. 

ERECTED 

IN  HONOR  OF 

AARON    HUNT: 

BY  HIS  DEVOTED  GRANDDAUGHTER. 

These  gilded  words  were  traced  on  the  polished  surface 
of  the  pure  white  obelisk,  and  on  each  corner  of  the  square 
pedestal  or  base  stood  beautifully  carved  vases,  from  which 
drooped  glossy  tendrils  of  ivy. 

As  Edna  looked  in  amazement  at  the  glittering  shaft, 
which  rose  twenty  feet  in  the  autumn  air;  as  she  rubbed 
her  eyes  and  re-read  the  golden  inscription,  and  looked  at  the 
sanded  walks,  and  the  well-trimmed  evergreens,  which  told 
that  careful  hands  kept  the  lot  in  order,  she  sank  down  at 
the  base  of  the  beautiful  monument,  and  laid  her  hot  cheek 
on  the  cold  marble. 


ST.  ELMO. 

"Oh,  Grandpa,  Grandpa!  He  is  not  altogether  wicked 
and  callous  as  we  once  thought  him,  or  he  could  never  have 
done  this!  Forgive  your  poor  little  Pearl,  if  she  can  not 
help  loving  one  who,  for  her  sake,  honors  your  dear  name 
and  memory !  Oh,  Grandpa !  if  I  had  never  gone  away  from 
here.  If  I  could  have  died  before  I  saw  him  again!  before 
this  great  pain  fell  upon  my  heart !" 

She  knew  now  where  St.  Elmo  Murray  went  that  night, 
after  he  had  watched  her  from  behind  the  sarcophagus  and 
the  mummies;  knew  that  only  his  hand  could  have  erected 
this  noble  pillar  of  record ;  and  most  fully  did  she  appre 
ciate  the  delicate  feeling  which  made  him  so  proudly  reticent 
on  this  subject.  He  wished  no  element  of  gratitude  in  the 
love  he  had  endeavored  to  win,  and  scorned  to  take  advan 
tage  of  her  devoted  affection  for  her  grandfather,  by  touch 
ing  her  heart  with  a  knowledge  of  the  tribute  paid  to  his 
memory.  Until  this  moment  she  had  sternly  refused  to  per 
mit  herself  to  believe  all  his  protestations  of  love;  had  tried 
to  think  that  he  merely  desired  to  make  her  acknowledge  his 
power,  and  confess  an  affection  flattering  to  his  vanity. 
But  to-day  she  felt  that  all  he  had  avowed  was  true;  that 
his  proud,  bitter  heart  was  indeed  entirely  hers;  that  this 
assurance  filled  her  own  heart  with  a  measureless  joy,  a 
rapture  that  made  her  eyes  sparkle  through  their  tears  and 
brought  a  momentary  glow  to  her  cheeks.  Hour  after  hotilljj 
passed;  she  took  no  note  of  time,  and  sat  there  pondering 
her  past  life,  thinking  how  the  dusty  heart  deep  under  the 
marble  would  have  throbbed  with  fond  pride,  if  it  could 
only  have  known  what  the  world  said  of  her  writings.  That 
she  should  prove  competent  to  teach  the  neighbors'  children 
had  been  Aaron  Hunt's  loftiest  ambition  for  his  darling; 
and  now  she  was  deemed  worthy  to  speak  to  her  race 
through  the  columns  of  a  periodical  that  few  women  were 
considered  able  to  fill. 

She  wondered  if  he  were  not  really  cognizant  of  it  all;  if 
he  were  not  watching  her  struggles  and  her  triumph ;  and 
she  asked  herself  why  he  was  not  allowed,  in  token  of  ten 
der  sympathy,  to  drop  one  palm-leaf  on  her  head,  from  the 
fadeless  branch  he  waved  in  heaven? 


ST.  ELMO.  305 

"Oh!  how  far, 

How  far  and  safe,  God,  dost  thou  keep  thy  saints 
When  once  gone  from  us !    We  may  call  against 
The  lighted  windows  of  thy  fair  June  heaven 
Where  all  the  souls  are  happy;  and  not  one, 
Not  even  my  father,  look  from  work  or  play, 
To  ask,  'Who  is  it  that  cries  after  us, 
Below  there,  in  the  dark?" 

The  shaft  threw  a  long  slanting  shadow  eastward  as  the 
orphan  rose,  and,  taking  from  the  box  the  fragrant  exotics 
which  she  had  brought  from  Le  Bocage,  arranged  them  in 
the  damp  soil  of  one  of  the  vases,  and  twined  their  bright- 
hued  petals  among  the  dark  green  ivy  leaves.  One  shining 
wreath  she  broke  and  laid  away  tenderly  in  the  box,  a  hal 
lowed  souvenir  of  the  sacred  spot  where  it  grew ;  and  as  she 
stood  there,  looking  at  a  garland  of  poppy  leaves  chiselled 
around  the  inscription,  neither  flush  nor  tremor  told  aught 
that  passed  in  her  mind,  and  her  sculptured  features  were 
calm,  as  the  afternoon  sun  showed  how  pale  and  fixed  her 
face  had  grown.  She  climbed  upon  the  broad  base  and 
pressed  her  lips  to  her  grandfather's  name,  and  there  was  a 
mournful  sweetness  in  her  voice  as  she  said  aloud: 

'Tray  God  to  pardon  him,  Grandpa!  Pray  Christ  to 
comfort  and  save  his  precious  soul !  Oh,  Grandpa !  pray  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  melt  and  sanctify  his  suffering  heart!" 

It  was  painful  to  quit  the  place.  She  lingered,  and 
started  away,  and  came  back,  and  at  last  knelt  down  and  hid 
her  face,  and  prayed  long  and  silently. 

Then  turning  quickly,  she  closed  the  iron  gate,  and  without 
trusting  herself  for  another  look,  walked  away.  She  passed 
the  spring  and  the  homestead  ruins,  and  finally  found  her 
self  in  sight  of  the  miller's  house,  which  alone  seemed  un 
changed.  As  she  lifted  the  latch  of  the  gate  and  entered 
the  yard,  it  seemed  but  yesterday  that  she  was  driven  away 
to  the  depot  in  the  miller's  covered  cart. 

An  ancient  apple-tree,  that  she  well  remembered,  stood 
near  the  house,  and  the  spreading  branches  were  bent  al 
most  to  the  earth  with  the  weight  of  red-streaked  apples, 
round  and  ripe.  The  shaggy,  black  dog,  that  so  often 
frolicked  with  Grip  in  the  days  gone  by,  now  lay  on  the 
step,  blinking  at  the  sun  and  the  flies  that  now  and  then 


305  ST.  ELMO. 

buzzed  over  the  golden  balsam,  whose  crimson  seed  glowed 
in  the  evening  sunshine. 

Over  the  rocky  well  rose  a  rude  arbor,  where  a  scupper- 
nong  vine  clambered  and  hung  its  rich,  luscious  brown 
clusters;  and  here,  with  a  pipe  between  her  lips,  and  at  her 
feet  a  basket  full  of  red  pepper-pods,  which  she  was  busily 
engaged  in  stringing,  sat  an  elderly  woman.  She  was  clad 
in  blue  and  yellow  plaid  homespun,  and  wore  a  white  apron 
and  a  snowy  muslin  cap,  whose  crimped  ruffles  pressed 
caressingly  the  grizzled  hair  combed  so  smoothly  over  her 
temples.  Presently  she  laid  her  pipe  down  on  the  top  of  the 
mossy  well,  where  the  dripping  bucket  sat,  and  lifted  the 
scarlet  wreath  of  peppers,  eyed  it  satisfactorily,  and,  as  she 
resumed  her  work,  began  to  hum  "Auld  Lang  Syne." 

"  Should   auld  acquaintance  be   forgot, 

And  never  brought  to  mind? 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  days  o'  lang  syne  ?  " 

The  countenance  was  so  peaceful  and  earnest  and  honest, 
that,  as  Edna  stood  watching  it,  a  warm,  loving  light  came 
into  her  own  beautiful  eyes,  and  she  put  out  both  hands  un 
consciously,  and  stepped  into  the  little  arbor. 

Her  shadow  fell  upon  the  matronly  face,  and  the  woman 
rose  and  courtesied. 

"Good  evening,  miss.  Will  you  be  seated?  There  is 
room  enough  for  two  on  my  bench." 

The  orphan  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  but  looked  up 
in  the  brown,  wrinkled  face,  and  then,  pushing  back  her 
bonnet  and  veil,  she  said  eagerly : 

"Mrs.  Wood,  don't  you  know  me  ?" 

The  miller's  wife  looked  curiously  at  her  visitor,  glanced 
at  her  dress,  and  shook  her  head. 

"No,  miss ;  if  ever  I  set  my  eyes  on  you  before,  it's  more 
than  I  remember,  and  Dorothy  Wood  has  a  powerful  mem 
ory,  they  say,  and  seldom  forgets  faces." 

"Do  you  remember  Aaron  Hunt,  and  his  daughter 
Hester?" 

"To  be  sure  I  do;  but  you  a'n't  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other,  I  take  it.  Stop — let  me  see.  Aha!  Tabitha,  Willis, 


ST.  ELMO. 


307 


you  children,  run  here — quick!  But,  no — it  can't  be.  You 
can't  be  Edna  Earl  ?" 

She  shaded  her  eyes  from  the  glare  of  the  sun  and 
stooped  forward,  and  looked  searchingly  at  the  stranger; 
then  the  coral  wreath  fell  from  her  fingers,  she  stretched 
out  her  arms,  and  the  large  mouth  trembled  and  twitched. 

"Are  you — can  you  be — little  Edna?  Aaron  Hunt's 
grandchild  ?" 

"I  am  the  poor  little  Edna  you  took  such  tender  care  of  in 
her  great  affliction " 

"Samson  and  the  Philistines!  Little  Edna — so  you  are! 
What  was  I  thinking  about,  that  I  didn't  know  you  right 
away  ?  God  bless  your  pretty  white  face !" 

She  caught  the  orphan  in  her  strong  arms  and  kissed  her, 
and  cried  and  laughed  alternately. 

A  young  girl,  apparently  about  Edna's  age,  and  a  tall, 
lank  young  man,  with  yellow  hair  full  of  meal  dust,  came 
out  of  the  house,  and  looked  on  in  stupid  wonder. 

"Why,  children !  don't  you  know  little  Edna  that  lived  at 
Aaron  Hunt's — his  granddaughter?  This  is  my  Tabitha 
and  my  son  Willis,  that  tends  the  mill  and  takes  care  of  us, 
now  my  poor  Peter — God  rest  his  soul ! — is  dead  and  buried 
these  three  years.  Bring  some  seats,  Willis.  Sit  down  here 
by  me,  Edna,  and  take  off  your  bonnet,  child,  and  let  me 
see  you.  Umph !  umph !  Who'd  have  thought  it  ?  What  a 
powerful  handsome  woman  you  have  made,  to  be  sure !  to  be 
sure !  Well !  well !  The  very  saints  up  in  glory  can't  begin 
to  tell  what  children  will  turn  out!  Lean  your  face  this 
way.  Why,  you  a'n't  no  more  like  that  little  bare-footed, 
tangle-haired,  rosy-faced  Edna  that  used  to  run  around 
these  woods  in  striped  homespun,  hunting  the  cows,  than  I, 
Dorothy  Elmira  Wood,  am  like  the  Queen  of  Sheba  when 
she  went  up  visiting  to  Jerusalem  to  call  on  Solomon.  How 
wonderful  pretty  you  are!  And  how  soft  and  white  your 
hands  are !  Now  I  look  at  you  good  I  see  you  are  like  your 
mother,  Hester  Earl;  and  she  was  the  loveliest,  mild  little 
pink  in  the  county.  You  are  taller  than  your  mother,  and 
prouder-looking;  but  you  have  got  her  big,  soft,  shining, 
black  eyes;  and  your  mouth  is  sweet  and  sorrowful,  and 
patient  as  hers  always  was,  after  your  father  fell  off  that 
frosty  roof  and  broke  his  neck.  Little  Edna  came  back  a  fine, 


308  ST.  ELMO. 

handsome  woman,  looking  like  a  queen!  But,  honey,  you 
don't  seem  healthy,  like  my  Tabitha.  See  what  a  bright  red 
she  has  in  her  face.  You  are  too  pale ;  you  look  as  if  you  had 
just  been  bled.  A'n't  you  well,  child?" 

Mrs.  Wood  felt  the  girl's  arms  and  shoulders,  and  found 
them  thinner  than  her  standard  of  health  demanded. 

"I  am  very  well,  thank  you,  but  tired  from  my  journey, 
and  from  walking  all  about  the  old  place." 

"And  like  enough  you've  cried  a  deal.  Your  eyes  are 
heavy.  You  know,  honey,  the  old  house  burnt  down  one 
blustry  night  in  March,  and  so  we  sold  the  place ;  for  when 
my  old  man  died  we  were  hard-pressed,  we  were,  and  a  man 
by  the  name  of  Simmons,  he  bought  it  and  planted  it  in  corn. 
Edna,  have  you  been  to  your  Grandpa's  grave  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  was  there  a  long  time  to-day." 

"Oh !  a'n't  it  beautiful !  It  would  be  a  real  comfort  to  die, 
if  folks  knew  such  lovely  gravestones  would  cover  'em.  I 
think  your  Grandpa's  grave  is  the  prettiest  place  I  ever  saw, 
and  I  wonder,  sometimes,  what  Aaron  Hunt  would  say  if  he 
could  rise  out  of  his  coffin  and  see  what  is  over  him.  Poor 
thing!  You  haven't  got  over  it  yet,  I  see.  I  thought  we 
should  have  buried  you,  too,  when  he  died ;  for  never  did  I 
see  a  child  grieve  so." 

"Mrs.  Wood,  who  keeps  the  walks  so  clean,  and  the 
evergreens  so  nicely  cut?" 

"My  Willis,  to  be  sure.  The  gentleman  that  came  here 
and  fixed  everything  last  December,  paid  Willis  one  hun 
dred  dollars  to  attend  to  it,  and  keep  the  weeds  down.  He 
said  he  might  come  back  unexpectedly  almost  any  time,  and 
that  he  did  not  want  to  see  so  much  as  a  blade  of  grass  in 
the  walks ;  so  you  see  Willis  goes  there  every  Saturday  and 
straightens  up  things.  What  is  his  name,  and  who  is  he 
anyhow?  He  only  told  us  he  was  a  friend  of  yours,  and 
that  his  mother  had  adopted  you." 

"What  sort  of  a  looking  person  was  he,  Mrs.  Wood?" 

"Oh,  child!  if  he  is  so  good  to  you,  I  ought  not  to  say; 
but  he  was  a  powerful,  grim-looking  man,  with  fierce  eyes 
and  a  thick  mustache,  and  hair  almost  pepper-and-salt ;  and 
bless  your  soul,  honey!  his  shoulders  were  as  broad  as  a 
barn-door.  While  he  talked  I  didn't  like  his  countenance,  it 
was  dark  like  a  pirate's,  or  one  of  those  prowling  cattle- 


ST.  ELMO. 


309 


thieves  over  in  the  coves.  He  asked  a  power  of  questions 
about  you  and  your  Grandpa,  and  when  I  said  you  had  no 
kin  on  earth,  that  I  ever  heard  of,  he  laughed,  that  is,  he 
showed  his  teeth,  and  said,  'So  much  the  better!  so  much 
the  better!'  What  is  his  name?" 

"Mr.  Murray,  and  he  has  been  very  kind  to  me." 

"But,  Edna,  I  thought  you  went  to  the  factory  to  work? 
Do  tell  me  how  you  fell  into  the  hands  of  such  rich  people?" 

Edna  briefly  acquainted  her  with  what  had  occurred  dur 
ing  her  long  absence,  and  informed  her  of  her  plans  for  the 
future;  and  while  she  listened  Mrs.  Wood  lighted  her  pipe, 
and  resting  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  dropped  her  face  on  her 
hands,  and  watched  her  visitor's  countenance. 

Finally  she  nodded  to  her  daughter,  saying:  "Do  you 
hear  that,  Bitha?  She  can  write  for  the  papers  and  get 
paid  for  it !  And  she  is  smart  enough  to  teach !  Well !  well ! 
that  makes  me  say  what  I  do  say,  and  I  stick  to  it,  where 
there's  a  will  there's  a  way !  and  where  there's  no  hearty 
will,  all  the  ways  in  creation  won't  take  folks  to  an  educa 
tion  !  Some  children  can't  be  kicked  and  kept  down ;  spite 
of  all  the  world  they  will  manage  to  scuffle  up  somehow ; 
and  then  again,  some  can't  be  cuffed  and  coaxed  and 
dragged  up  by  the  ears!  Here's  Edna,  that  always  had  a 
hankering  after  books,  and  she  has  made  something  of  her 
self  ;  and  here's  my  girl,  that  I  wanted  to  get  book-learning, 
and  I  slaved  and  I  saved  to  send  her  to  school,  and  sure 
enough  she  has  got  no  more  use  for  reading,  and  knows  as 
little  as  her  poor  mother,  who  never  had  a  chance  to  learn. 
It  is  no  earthly  use  to  fly  in  the  face  of  blood  and  nature! 
'What  is  bred  in  the  bone,  won't  come  out  in  the  flesh!' 
Some  are  cut  out  for  one  thing  and  some  for  another! 
Jerusalem  artichokes  won't  bear  hops,  and  persimmons  don't 
grow  on  blackjacks!" 

She  put  her  brawny  brown  hand  on  Edna's  forehead,  and 
smoothed  the  bands  of  hair,  and  sighed  heavily. 

"Mrs.  Wood,  I  should  like  to  see  Brindle  once  more." 

"Lord  bless  your  soul,  honey!  she  has  been  dead  these 
three  years !  Why,  you  forget  cows  don't  hang  on  as  long 
as  Methuselah,  and  Brindle  was  no  yearling  when  we  took 
her.  She  mired  down  in  the  swamp,  back  of  the  millpond, 
and  before  we  could  find  her  she  was  dead.  But  her  calf  is 


3IO  ST.  ELMO. 

as  pretty  a  young  thing  as  ever  you  saw ;  speckled  all  over, 
most  as  thick  as  a  guinea,  and  the  children  call  her 
'Speckle.'  Willis,  step  out  and  see  if  the  heifer  is  in  sight. 
Edna,  a'n't  you  going  to  stay  with  me  to-night  ?" 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Wood,  I  should  like  very  much  to  do 
so,  but  have  not  time,  and  must  get  back  to  Chattanooga  be 
fore  the  train  leaves,  for  I  am  obliged  to  go  on  to-night." 

"Well,  any  how,  lay  off  your  bonnet  and  stay  and  let  me 
give  you  some  supper,  and  then  we  will  all  go  back  with  you, 
that  is,  if  you  a'n't  too  proud  to  ride  to  town  in  our  cart? 
We  have  got  a  new  cart,  but  it  is  only  a  miller's  cart,  and 
may  be  it  won't  suit  your  fine  fashionable  clothes." 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  stay,  and  I  only  wish  it  was  the 
same  old  cart  that  took  me  to  the  depot,  more  than  five  years 
ago.  Please  give  me  some  water." 

Mrs.  Wood  rolled  up  her  sleeves,  put  away  her  pretty  pep 
pers,  and  talking  vigorously  all  the  time,  prepared  some  re 
freshments  for  her  guest. 

A  table  was  set  under  the  apple-tree,  a  snowy  cotton  cloth 
spread  over  it,  and  yellow  butter,  tempting  as  Goshen's,  and 
a  loaf  of  fresh  bread,  and  honey  amber-hued,  and  butter 
milk,  and  cider,  and  stewed  pears,  and  a  dish  of  ripe  red 
apples  crowned  the  board. 

The  air  was  laden  with  the  fragrance  it  stole  in  crossing 
a  hayfield  beyond  the  road,  the  bees  darted  in  and  out  of 
their  hives,  and  a  peacock  spread  his  iridescent  feathers  to 
catch  the  level  yellow  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  and  from  the 
distant  millpond  came  the  gabble  of  geese,  as  the  noisy  fleet 
breasted  the  ripples. 

Speckle,  who  had  been  driven  to  the  gate  for  Edna's  in 
spection,  stood  close  to  the  paling,  thrusting  her  pearly 
horns  through  the  cracks,  and  watching  the  party  at  the 
table  with  her  large,  liquid,  beautiful,  earnest  eyes;  and  afar 
off  Lookout  rose  solemn  and  sombre. 

"Edna,  you  eat  nothing.  What  ails  you,  child!  They 
say  too  much  brainwork  is  not  healthy,  and  I  reckon  you 
study  too  hard.  Better  stay  here  with  me,  honey,  and  run 
around  the  woods  and  get  some  red  in  your  face,  and  churn 
and  spin  and  drink  buttermilk,  and  get  plump,  and  go 
chestnutting  with  my  children.  Goodness  knows  they  are 
strong  enough  and  hearty  enough,  and  too  much  study  will 


ST.  ELMO.  311 

never  make  shads  of  them ;  for  they  won't  work  their  brains, 
even  to  learn  the  multiplication  table.  See  here,  Edna,  if 
you  will  stay  a  while  with  me,  I  will  give  Speckle  to  you." 

"Thank  you,  dear  Mrs.  Wood,  I  wish  I  could ;  but  the 
lady  who  engaged  me  to  teach  her  children,  wrote  that  I  was 
very  much  needed ;  and,  consequently,  I  must  hurry  on. 
Speckle  is  a  perfect  little  beauty,  but  I  would  not  be  so 
selfish  as  to  take  her  away  from  you." 

Clouds  began  to  gather  in  the  southwest,  and  as  the 
covered  cart  was  brought  to  the  gate,  a  distant  mutter  of 
thunder  told  that  a  storm  was  brewing. 

Mrs.  Wood  and  her  two  children  accompanied  the  orphan, 
and  as  they  drove  through  the  woods,  myriads  of  fireflies 
starred  the  gloom.  It  was  dark  when  they  reached  the  sta 
tion,  and  Willis  brought  the  trunks  from  the  hotel,  and 
found  seats  for  the  party  in  the  cars,  which  were  rapidly 
filling  with  passengers.  Presently  the  down-train  from 
Knoxville  came  thundering  in,  and  the  usual  rush  and  bustle 
ensued. 

Mrs.  Wood  gave  the  orphan  a  hearty  kiss  and  warm  em 
brace,  and  bidding  her  "Be  sure  to  write  soon,  and  say  how 
you  are  getting  along!"  the  kind-hearted  woman  left  the 
cars,  wiping  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  apron. 

At  last  the  locomotive  signalled  that  all  was  ready ;  and  as 
the  train  moved  on,  Edna  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  form  stand 
ing  under  a  lamp,  leaning  with  folded  arms  against  the  post 
— a  form  strangely  like  Mr.  Murray's.  She  leaned  out  and 
watched  it  till  the  cars  swept  round  a  curve,  and  (amp  and 
figure  and  village  vanished.  How  could  he  possibly  be  in 
Chattanooga?  The  conjecture  was  absurd;  she  was  the 
victim  of  some  optical  illusion.  With  a  long,  heavily-drawn 
sigh,  she  leaned  against  the  window- frame  and  looked  at  the 
dark  mountain  mass  looming  behind  her ;  and  after  a  time, 
when  the  storm  drew  nearer,  she  saw  it  only  now  and  then, 
as 

"A  vivid,  vindictive,  and  serpentine  flash 
Gored  the  darkness,  and  shore  it  across  with  a  gash." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

IN  one  of  those  brown-stone,  palatial  houses  on  Fifth 
Avenue,  which  make  the  name  of  the  street  a  synonym  for 
almost  royal  luxury  and  magnificence,  sat  Mrs.  Andrews's 
"new  governess,"  a  week  after  her  arrival  in  New  York. 
Her  reception,  though  cold  and  formal,  had  been  punc 
tiliously  courteous;  and  a  few  days  sufficed  to  give  the 
stranger  an  accurate  insight  into  the  characters  and  customs 
of  the  family  with  whom  she  was  now  domesticated. 

Though  good-natured,  intelligent,  and  charitable,  Mrs. 
Andrews  was  devoted  to  society,  and  gave  to  the  demands 
of  fashion  much  of  the  time  which  had  been  better  expended 
at  home  in  training  her  children,  and  making  her  hearth 
stone  rival  the  attractions  of  the  club,  where  Mr.  Andrews 
generally  spent  his  leisure  hours.  She  was  much  younger 
than  her  husband,  was  handsome,  gay,  and  ambitious,  and 
the  polished  hauteur  of  her  bearing  often  reminded  Edna  of 
Mrs.  Murray;  while  Mr.  Andrews  seemed  immersed  in 
business  during  the  day,  and  was  rarely  at  home  except  at 
his  meals. 

Felix,  the  eldest  of  the  two  children,  was  a  peevish, 
spoiled,  exacting  boy  of  twelve  years  of  age,  endowed  with 
a  remarkably  active  intellect,  but  pitiably  dwarfed  in  body 
and  hopelessly  lame  in  consequence  of  a  deformed  foot. 
His  sister  Hattie  was  only  eight  years  old,  a  bright,  pretty, 
affectionate  girl,  over  whom  Felix  tyrannized  unmercifully, 
and  whom  from  earliest  recollection  had  been  accustomed 
to  yield  both  her  rights  and  privileges  to  the  fretful  invalid. 

The  room  occupied  by  the  governess  was  small  but  beau 
tifully  furnished,  and  as  it  was  situated  in  the  fourth  story, 
the  windows  commanded  a  view  of  the  trees  in  a  neighbor 
ing  park,  and  the  waving  outline  of  Long  Island. 

On  the  day  of  her  arrival  Mrs.  Andrews  entered  into  a 
minute  analysis  of  the  characters  of  the  children,  indicated 
the  course  which  she  wished  pursued  toward  them,  and,  im- 


ST.  ELMO.  313 

pressing  upon  Edna  the  grave  responsibility  of  her  position, 
the  mother  gave  her  children  to  the  stranger's  guardianship 
and  seemed  to  consider  her  maternal  duties  fully  discharged. 

Edna  soon  ascertained  that  her  predecessors  had  found 
the  path  intolerably  thorny,  and  abandoned  it  in  consequence 
of  Felix's  uncontrollable  fits  of  sullenness  and  passion. 
Tutors  and  governesses  had  quickly  alternated,  and  as  the 
cripple  finally  declared  he  would  not  tolerate  the  former,  his 
mother  resolved  to  humor  his  caprice  in  the  choice  of  a 
teacher. 

Fortunately  the  boy  was  exceedingly  fond  of  his  books, 
and  as  the  physicians  forbade  the  constant  use  of  his  eyes, 
the  governess  was  called  on  to  read  aloud  at  least  one  half 
of  the  day.  From  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  eight  at 
night  the  whole  care  of  these  children  devolved  on  Edna; 
who  ate,  talked,  drove  with  them,  accompanied  them 
wherever  their  inclination  led,  and  had  not  one  quiet  moment 
from  breakfast  until  her  pupils  went  to  sleep.  Sometimes 
Felix  was  restless  and  wakeful,  and  on  such  occasions  he  in 
sisted  that  his  governess  should  come  and  read  him  to  sleep. 

Notwithstanding  the  boy's  imperious  nature,  he  possessed 
some  redeeming  traits,  and  Edna  soon  became  much  at 
tached  to  him ;  while  his  affection  for  his  new  keeper  as 
tonished  and  delighted  his  mother. 

For  a  week  after  Edna's  arrival,  inclement  weather  pre 
vented  the  customary  daily  drive  which  contributed  largely 
to  the  happiness  of  the  little  cripple;  but  one  afternoon  as 
the  three  sat  in  the  schoolroom,  Felix  threw  his  Latin  gram 
mar  against  the  wall  and  exclaimed: 

"I  want  to  see  the  swans  in  Central  Park,  and  I  mean  to 
go,  even  if  it  does  rain!  Hattie,  ring  for  Patrick  to  bring 

the  coupe  round  to  the  door.    Miss  Earl,  don't  you  want  to 

?" 

"Yes,  for  there  is  no  longer  any  danger  of  rain,  the  sun 
is  shining  beautifully ;  and  besides,  I  hope  you  will  be  more 
amiable  when  you  get  into  the  open  air." 

She  gave  him  his  hat  and  crutches,  took  his  gray  shawl 
on  her  arm,  and  they  went  down  to  the  neat  carriage  drawn 
by  a  handsome  chestnut  horse,  and  set  apart  for  the  use  of 
the  children. 

As  they  entered  the  park,  Edna  noticed  that  the  boy's 


314 


ST.  ELMO. 


eyes  brightened,  and  that  he  looked  eagerly  at  every  passing 
face. 

"Now,  Hattie,  you  must  watch  on  your  side,  and  I  will 
keep  a  good  lookout  on  mine.  I  wonder  if  she  will  come 
this  evening?" 

"For  whom  are  you  both  looking?"  asked  the  teacher. 

"Oh!  for  little  Lila,  Bro'  Felix's  sweetheart!"  laughed 
Hattie,  glancing  at  him  with  a  mischievous  twinkle  in  her 
bright  eyes, 

"No  such  thing!  Never  had  a  sweetheart  in  my  life! 
Don't  be  silly,  Hattie!  mind  your  window,  or  I  guess  we 
shan't  see  her." 

"Well,  any  how,  I  heard  Uncle  Gray  tell  Mamma  that  he 
kissed  his  sweetheart's  hand  at  the  party,  and  I  saw  Bro' 
Felix  kiss  Lila's  last  week." 

"I  didn't,  Miss  Earl!"  cried  the  cripple,  reddening  as  he 
spoke. 

"Oh!  he  did,  Miss  Earl!  Stop  pinching  me,  Bro'  Felix. 
My  arm  is  all  black  and  blue,  now.  There  she  is !  Look, 
here  on  my  side !  Here  is  'Red  Ridinghood !' ' 

Edna  saw  a  little  girl  clad  in  scarlet,  and  led  by  a  grave, 
middle-aged  nurse,  who  was  walking  leisurely  toward  one 
of  the  lakes. 

Felix  put  his  head  out  of  the  window  and  called  to  the 
woman. 

"Hannah,  are  going  to  feed  the  swans  ?" 

"Good  evening.    Yes,  we  are  going  there  now." 

"Well,  we  will  meet  you  there." 

"What  is  the  child's  name?"  asked  Edna. 

"Lila  Manning,  and  she  is  deaf  and  dumb.  We  talk  to 
her  on  our  fingers." 

They  left  the  carriage,  and  approached  the  groups  of 
children  gathered  on  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  at  sight  of 
Felix,  the  little  girl  in  scarlet  sprang  to  meet  him,  moving 
her  slender  fingers  rapidly  as  she  conversed  with  him.  She 
was  an  exceedingly  lovely  but  fragile  child,  apparently  about 
Hattie's  age ;  and  as  Edna  watched  the  changing  expression 
of  her  delicate  features,  she  turned  to  the  nurse  and  asked : 

"Is  she  an  orphan  ?" 

"Yes,  miss ;  but  she  will  never  find  it  out  as  long  as  her 
uncle  lives.  He  makes  a  great  pet  of  her." 


ST.  ELMO.  315 

"What  is  his  name,  and  where  does  he  live  ?" 

"Mr.  Douglass  G.  Manning.  He  boards  at  No.  —  Twen 
ty-third  street;  but  he  spends  most  of  his  time  at  the  office. 
No  matter  what  time  of  night  he  comes  home,  he  never  goes 
to  his  own  room  till  he  has  looked  at  Lila,  and  kissed  her 
good-night.  Master  Felix,  please  don't  untie  her  hat,  the 
wind  will  blow  her  hair  all  out  of  curl." 

For  some  time  the  children  were  much  amused  in  watch 
ing  the  swans,  and  when  they  expressed  themselves  willing 
to  resume  their  drive,  an  arrangement  was  made  with  Han 
nah  to  meet  at  the  same  place  the  ensuing  day.  They  re 
turned  to  the  carriage,  and  Felix  said : 

"Don't  you  think  Lila  is  a  little  beauty?" 

"Yes,  I  quite  agree  with  you.    Do  you  know  her  uncle?" 

"No,  and  don't  want  to  know  him;  he  is  too  cross  and 
sour.  I  have  seen  him  walking  sometimes  with  Lila,  and 
mamma  has  him  at  her  parties  and  dinners ;  but  Hattie  and  I 
never  see  the  company  unless  we  peep,  and,  above  all  things, 
I  hate  peeping!  It  is  ungenteel  and  vulgar;  only  poor 
people  peep.  Mr.  Manning  is  an  old  bachelor,  and  very 
crabbed,  so  my  uncle  Grey  says.  He  is  the  editor  of  the 

Magazine,  that  mamma  declares  she  can't  live  without. 

Look !  look,  Hattie !  There  goes  mamma  this  minute !  Stop, 
Patrick!  Uncle  Grey!  Uncle  Grey!  hold  up,  won't  you, 
and  let  me  see  the  new  horses !" 

An  elegant  phaeton,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  superb  black 
horses,  drew  up  close  to  the  coupe,  and  Mrs.  Andrews  and 
her  only  brother,  Mr.  Grey  Chilton,  leaned  forward  and 
spoke  to  the  children ;  while  Mr.  Chilton,  who  was  driving, 
teased  Hattie  by  touching  her  head  and  shoulders  with  his 
whip. 

"Uncle  Grey,  I  think  the  bays  are  the  handsomest." 

"Which  proves  you  utterly  incapable  of  judging  horse 
flesh  ;  for  these  are  the  finest  horses  in  the  city.  I  presume 
this  is  Miss  Earl,  though  nobody  seems  polite  enough  to  in 
troduce  us." 

He  raised  his  hat  slightly,  bowed,  and  drove  on. 

"Is  this  the  first  time  you  have  met  my  uncle?"  asked 
Felix. 

"Yes.    Does  he  live  in  the  city  ?" 

"Why !  he  lives  with  us !    Haven't  you  seen  him  about  the 


316  ST.  ELMO. 

house?  You  must  have  heard  him  romping  around  with 
Hattie;  for  they  make  noise  enough  to  call  in  the  police.  I 
think  my  uncle  Grey  is  the  handsomest  man  I  ever  saw,  ex 
cept  Edwin  Booth,  when  he  plays  'Hamlet.'  What  do  you 
say?" 

"As  I  had  barely  a  glimpse  of  your  uncle,  I  formed  no 
opinion.  Felix,  button  your  coat  and  draw  your  shawl  over 
your  shoulders ;  it  is  getting  cold." 

When  they  reached  home  the  children  begged  for  some 
music,  and  placing  her  hat  on  a  chair,  Edna  sat  down  before 
the  piano,  and  played  and  sang;  while  Felix  stood  leaning 
on  his  crutches,  gazing  earnestly  into  the  face  of  his  teacher. 

The  song  was  Longfellow's  "Rainy  Day,"  and  when  she 
concluded  it,  the  cripple  laid  his  thin  hand  on  hers  and  said : 

"Sing  the  last  verse  again.  I  feel  as  if  I  should  always 
be  a  good  boy,  if  you  would  only  sing  that  for  me  every  day. 
'Into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall?'  Yes,  lameness  fell 
into  mine." 

While  she  complied  with  his  request,  Edna  watched  his 
sallow  face,  and  saw  tears  gather  in  the  large,  sad  eyes,  and 
she  felt  that  henceforth  the  boy's  evil  spirit  could  be 
exorcised. 

"Miss  Earl,  we  never  had  a  governess  at  all  like  you. 
They  were  old,  and  cross,  and  ugly,  and  didn't  love  to  play 
chess,  and  could  not  sing,  and  I  hated  them !  But  I  do  like 
you,  and  I  will  try  to  be  good." 

He  rested  his  head  against  her  arm,  and  she  turned  and 
kissed  his  pale,  broad  forehead. 

"Halloo,  Felix!  flirting  with  your  governess?  This  is  a 
new  phase  of  school  life.  You  ought  to  feel  quite  honored, 
Miss  Earl,  though  upon  my  word  I  am  sorry  for  you.  The 
excessive  amiability  of  my  nephew  has  driven  not  less  than 
six  of  your  predecessors  in  confusion  from  the  field,  leaving 
him  victorious.  I  warn  you  he  is  an  incipient  Turenne,  and 
the  schoolroom  is  the  Franche  Comte  of  his  campaigns." 

Mr.  Chilton  came  up  to  the  piano,  and  curiously  scanned 
Edna's  face;  but  taking  her  hat  and  veil,  she  rose  and 
moved  toward  the  door,  saying: 

"I  am  disposed  to  believe  that  he  has  been  quite  as  much 
sinned  against  as  sinning.  Come,  children,  it  is  time  for 
your  tea." 


ST.  ELMO. 


317 


From  that  hour  her  influence  over  the  boy  strengthened 
so  rapidly  that  before  she  had  been  a  month  in  the  house  he 
yielded  implicit  obedience  to  her  wishes,  and  could  not  bear 
for  her  to  leave  him,  even  for  a  moment.  When  more  than 
usually  fretful,  and  inclined  to  tyrannize  over  Hattie,  or 
speak  disrespectfully  to  his  mother,  a  warning  glance  or 
word  from  Edna,  or  the  soft  touch  of  her  hand,  would  suf 
fice  to  restrain  the  threatened  outbreak. 

Her  days  were  passed  in  teaching,  reading  aloud,  and 
talking  to  the  children ;  and  when  released  from  her  duties 
she  went  invariably  to  her  desk,  devoting  more  than  half  the 
night  to  the  completion  of  her  MS. 

As  she  took  her  meals  with  her  pupils,  she  rarely  saw  the 
other  members  of  the  household,  and  though  Mr.  Chilton 
now  and  then  sauntered  into  the  schoolroom  and  frolicked 
with  Hattie,  his  visits  were  coldly  received  by  the  teacher; 
who  met  his  attempts  at  conversation  with  very  discourag 
ing  monosyllabic  replies. 

His  manner  led  her  to  suspect  that  the  good-locking 
lounger  was  as  vain  and  heartless  as  he  was  frivolous,  and 
she  felt  no  inclination  to  listen  to  his  trifling,  sans  souci 
chatter ;  consecuiently,  when  he  thrust  himself  into  her  pres 
ence,  she  either  picked  up  a  book  or  left  him  to  be  enter 
tained  by  the  children. 

One  evening  in  November  she  sat  in  her  own  room  pre 
paring  to  write,  and  pondering  the  probable  fate  of  a  sketch 
which  she  had  finished  and  dispatched  two  days  before  to 
the  office  of  the  magazine. 

The  principal  aim  of  the  little  tale  was  to  portray  the 
horrors  and  sin  of  duelling,  and  she  had  written  it  with 
great  care;  but  well  aware  of  the  vast,  powerful  current  of 
popular  opinion  that  she  was  bravely  striving  to  stem,  and 
fully  conscious  that  it  would  subject  her  to  severe  animad 
version  from  those  who  defended  the  custom,  she  could  not 
divest  herself  of  apprehension  lest  the  article  should  be  re 
jected. 

The  door  bell  rang,  and  soon  after  a  servant  brought  her 
a  card :  "Mr.  D.  G.  Manning.  To  see  Miss  Earl." 

Flattered  and  frightened  by  a  visit  from  one  whose 
opinions  she  valued  so  highly,  Edna  smoothed  her  hair,  and 
with  trembling  fingers  changed  her  collar  and  cuffs,  and 


318  ST.  ELMO. 

went  downstairs,  feeling  as  if  all  the  blood  in  her  body  were 
beating  a  tattoo  on  the  drum  of  her  ears. 

As  she  entered  the  library,  into  which  he  had  been  shown 
(Mrs.  Andrews  having  guests  in  the  parlor),  Edna  had  an 
opportunity  of  looking  unobserved  at  this  critical  ogre,  of 
whom  she  stood  in  such  profound  awe. 

Douglass  Manning  was  forty  years  old,  tall,  and  well 
built;  wore  slender,  steel-rimmed  spectacles  which  some 
what  softened  the  light  of  his  keen,  cold,  black  eyes;  and 
carried  his  slightly  bald  head  with  the  haughty  air  of  one 
who  habitually  hurled  his  gauntlet  in  the  teeth  of  public 
opinion. 

He  stood  looking  up  at  a  pair  of  bronze  griffins  that 
crouched  on  the  top  of  the  rosewood  bookcase,  and  the  gas 
light  falling  full  on  his  face,  showed  his  stern,  massive 
features,  which,  in  their  granitic  cast,  reminded  Edna  of 
those  Egyptian  Androsphinx — vast,  serene,  changeless. 

There  were  no  furrows  on  cheek  or  brow,  no  beard  veiled 
the  lines  and  angles  about  the  mouth,  but  as  she  marked  the 
chilling  repose  of  the  countenance,  so  indicative  of  con 
scious  power  and  well-regulated  strength,  why  did  memory 
travel  swiftly  back  among  the  "Stones  of  Venice,"  repeating 
the  description  of  the  hawthorn  on  Bourges  Cathedral?  "A 
perfect  Niobe  of  May."  Had  this  man  petrified  in  his  youth 
before  the  steady  stylus  of  time  left  on  his  features  that 
subtle  tracery  which  passing  years  engrave  on  human  faces  ? 
The  motto  of  his  magazine,  Veritas  sine  dementia,  ruled 
his  life,  and,  putting  aside  the  lenses  of  passion  and  preju 
dice,  he  coolly,  quietly,  relentlessly  judged  men  and  women 
and  their  works ;  neither  loving  nor  hating,  pitying  nor 
despising  his  race;  looking  neither  to  right  nor  left;  labor 
ing  steadily  as  a  thoroughly  well-balanced,  a  marvellously 
perfect  intellectual  automaton. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Manning.  I  am  very  glad  to  meet 
you ;  for  I  fear  my  letters  have  very  inadequately  expressed 
my  gratitude  for  your  kindness." 

Her  voice  trembled  slightly,  and  she  put  out  her  hand. 
He  turned,  bowed,  offered  her  a  chair,  and,  as  they  seated 
themselves,  he  examined  her  face  as  he  would  have  searched 
the  title-page  of  some  new  book  for  an  insight  into  its  con 
tents. 


ST.  ELMO.  319 

"When  did  you  reach  New  York,  Miss  Earl?" 

"Six  weeks  ago." 

"I  was  not  aware  that  you  were  in  the  city,  until  I  re 
ceived  your  note  two  days  since.  How  long  do  you  intend 
to  remain?" 

"Probably  the  rest  of  my  life,  if  I  find  it  possible  to  sup 
port  myself  comfortably." 

"Is  Mrs.  Andrews  an  old  friend  ?" 

"No,  sir;  she  was  a  stranger  to  me  when  I  entered  her 
house  as  governess  for  her  children." 

"Miss  Earl,  you  are  much  younger  than  I  had  supposed. 
Your  writings  led  me  to  imagine  that  you  were  at  least 
thirty,  whereas  I  find  you  almost  a  child.  Will  your  duties 
as  governess  conflict  with  your  literary  labors?" 

"No,  sir.     I  shall  continue  to  write." 

"You  appear  to  have  acted  upon  my  suggestion,  to  aban 
don  the  idea  of  a  book,  and  confine  your  attention  to  short 
sketches." 

"No,  sir.  I  adhere  to  my  original  purpose,  and  am  at 
work  upon  the  manuscript  which  you  advised  me  to  destroy." 

He  fitted  his  glasses  more  firmly  on  his  nose,  and  she  saw 
the  gleam  of  his  strong  white  teeth,  as  a  half  smile  moved 
his  lips. 

"Miss  Earl,  my  desk  is  very  near  a  window,  and  as  I  was 
writing  late  last  night,  I  noticed  several  large  moth?  beating 
against  the  glass  which  fortunately  barred  their  approach 
to  the  flame  of  the  gas  inside.  Perhaps  inexperience  whis 
pered  that  it  was  a  cruel  fate  that  shut  them  out ;  but  which 
heals  soonest,  disappointed  curiosity  or  singed  wings  ?" 

"Mr.  Manning,  why  do  you  apprehend  more  danger  from 
writing  a  book  than  from  the  preparation  of  magazine  arti 
cles?" 

"Simply  because  the  peril  is  inherent  in  the  nature  of  the 
book  you  contemplate.  Unless  I  totally  misunderstand  your 
views,  you  indulge  in  the  rather  extraordinary  belief  that  all 
works  of  fiction  should  be  eminently  didactic,  and  inculcate 
not  only  sound  morality  but  scientific  theories.  Herein,  per 
mit  me  to  say,  you  entirely  misapprehend  the  spirit  of  the 
age.  People  read  novels  merely  to  be  amused,  not  educated  ; 
and  they  will  not  tolerate  technicalities  and  abstract  specu 
lation  in  lieu  of  exciting  plots  and  melodramatic  denoue- 


320 


ST.  ELMO. 


ments.  Persons  who  desire  to  learn  something  of  astrono 
my,  geology,  chemistry,  philology,  etc.,  never  think  of  find 
ing  what  they  require  in  the  pages  of  a  novel,  but  apply 
at  once  to  the  text-books  of  the  respective  sciences,  and 
would  as  soon  hunt  for  a  lover's  sentimental  dialogue  in 
Newton's  Trincipia/  or  spicy  small-talk  in  Kant's  'Critique,' 
as  expect  an  epitome  of  modern  science  in  a  work  of  fiction." 

"But,  sir,  how  many  habitual  novel  readers  do  you  sup 
pose  will  educate  themselves  thoroughly  from  the  text 
books  to  which  you  refer?" 

"A  modicum,  I  grant  you ;  yet  it  is  equally  true  that  those 
who  merely  read  to  be  amused  will  not  digest  the  scientific 
dishes  you  set  before  them.  On  the  contrary,  far  from  ap 
preciating  your  charitable  efforts  to  elevate  and  broaden 
their  range  of  vision,  they  will  either  sneer  at  the  author's 
pedantry,  or  skip  over  every  passage  that  necessitates 
thought  to  comprehend  it,  and  rush  on  to  the  next  page  to 
discover  whether  the  heroine,  Miss  Imogene  Arethusa  Penel 
ope  Brown,  wore  blue  or  pink  tarlatan  to  her  first  ball,  or 
whether  on  the  day  of  her  elopement  the  indignant  papa  suc 
ceeded  in  preventing  the  consummation  of  her  felicity  with 
Mr.  Belshazzar  Algernon  Nebuchadnezzar  Smith.  I  neither 
magnify  nor  dwarf,  I  merely  state  a  simple  fact." 

"But,  Mr.  Manning,  do  you  not  regard  the  writers  of  each 
age  as  the  custodians  of  its  tastes  as  well  as  its  morals?" 

"Certainly  not ;  they  simply  reflect  and  do  not  mould  pub 
lic  taste.  Shakespeare,  Hogarth,  Rabelais,  portrayed  men 
and  things  as  they  found  them;  not  as  they  might,  could, 
would,  or  should  have  been.  Was  Sir  Peter  Lely  responsi 
ble  for  the  style  of  dress  worn  by  court  beauties  in  the  reign 
of  Charles  II.?  He  faithfully  painted  what  passed  before 
him.  Miss  Earl,  the  objection  I  urge  against  the  novel  you 
are  preparing  does  not  apply  to  magazine  essays,  where  an 
author  may  concentrate  all  the  erudition  he  can  obtain  and 
ventilate  it  unchallenged ;  for  review  writers  now  serve  the 
public  in  much  the  same  capacity  that  cup-bearers  did  roy 
alty  in  ancient  days ;  and  they  are  expected  to  taste  strong 
liquors  as  well  as  sweet  cordials  and  sour  light  wines.  More 
over,  a  certain  haze  of  sanctity  envelops  the  precincts  of 
'Maga,'  whence  the  incognito  'we'  thunders  with  oracular 
power;  for,  notwithstanding  the  rapid  annihilation  of  all 


ST.  ELMO.  321 

classic  faith  in  modern  times  which  permits  the  conversion 
of  Virgil's  Avernus  into  a  model  oyster-farm,  the  credulous 
public  fondly  cling  to  the  myth  that  editorial  sanctums  alone 
possess  the  sacred  tripod  of  Delphi.  Curiosity  is  the  best 
stimulant  for  public  interest,  and  it  has  become  exceedingly 
difficult  to  conceal  the  authorship  of  a  book  while  that  of 
magazine  articles  can  readily  be  disguised.  I  repeat,  the 
world  of  novel-readers  constitute  a  huge  hippodrome,  where, 
if  you  can  succeed  in  amusing  your  spectators  or  make  them 
gasp  in  amazement  at  your  rhetorical  legerdemain,  they  will 
applaud  vociferously,  and  pet  you,  as  they  would  a  graceful 
danseuse,  or  a  dexterous  acrobat,  or  a  daring  equestrian; 
but  if  you  attempt  to  educate  or  lecture  them,  you  will  either 
declaim  to  empty  benches  or  be  hissed  down.  They  expect 
you  to  help  them  kill  time,  not  improve  it." 

"Sir,  is  it  not  nobler  to  struggle  against  than  to  float  ig- 
nominiously  with  the  tide  of  degenerate  opinion?" 

"That  depends  altogether  on  the  earnestness  of  your 
desire  for  martyrdom  by  drowning.  I  have  seen  stronger 
swimmers  than  you  go  down,  after  desperate  efforts  to  keep 
their  heads  above  water." 

Edna  folded  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and  looked  steadily  into 
the  calm,  cold  eyes  of  the  editor,  then  shook  her  head,  and 
answered : 

"I  shall  not  drown.  At  all  events  I  will  risk  it.  I  would 
rather  sink  in  the  effort  than  live  without  attempting  it." 

"When  you  require  ointment  for  singed  wings,  I  shall 
have  no  sympathy  with  which  to  anoint  them ;  for,  like  most 
of  your  sex,  I  see  you  mistake  blind  obstinacy  for  rational, 
heroic  firmness.  The  next  number  of  the  magazine  will 
contain  the  contribution  you  sent  me  two  days  since,  and, 
while  I  do  not  accept  all  your  views,  I  think  it  by  far  the 
best  thing  I  have  yet  seen  from  your  pen.  It  will,  of  course, 
provoke  controversy,  but  for  that  result,  I  presume  you  are 
prepared.  Miss  Earl,  you  are  a  stranger  in  New  York,  and 
if  I  can  serve  you  in  any  way,  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Manning.  I  need  some  books  which  I 
am  not  able  to  purchase,  and  can  not  find  in  this  house;  if 
you  can  spare  them  temporarily  from  your  library,  you  will 
confer  a  great  favor  on  me." 


322  ST.  ELMO. 

"Certainly.    Have  you  a  list  of  those  which  you  require?'* 

"No,  sir,  but " 

"Here  is  a  pencil  and  piece  of  paper;  write  down  the 
titles,  and  I  will  have  them  sent  to  you  in  the  morning." 

She  turned  to  the  table  to  prepare  the  list,  and  all  the 
while  Mr.  Manning's  keen  eyes  scanned  her  countenance, 
dress,  and  figure.  A  half-smile  once  more  stirred  his  grave 
lips  when  she  gave  him  the  paper,  over  which  he  glanced 
indifferently. 

"Miss  Earl,  I  fear  you  will  regret  your  determination  to 
make  literature  a  profession;  for  your  letters  informed  me 
that  you  are  poor ;  and  doubtless  you  remember  the  witticism 
concerning  the  'republic  of  letters  which  contained  not  a 
sovereign.'  Your  friend,  Mr.  Murray,  appreciated  the  ob 
stacles  you  are  destined  to  encounter,  and  I  am  afraid  you 
will  not  find  life  in  New  York  as  agreeable  as  it  was  under 
his  roof." 

"When  did  you  hear  from  him?" 

"I  received  a  letter  this  morning." 

"And  you  called  to  see  me  because  he  requested  you  to 
do  so?" 

"I  had  determined  to  come  before  his  letter  arrived." 

He  noticed  the  incredulous  smile  that  flitted  across  her 
face,  and,  after  a  moment's  pause,  he  continued : 

"I  do  not  wish  to  discourage  you,  on  the  contrary,  I  sin 
cerely  desire  to  aid  you,  but  Mill  has  analyzed  the  subject 
very  ably  in  his  'Political  Economy/  and  declares  that  'on 
any  rational  calculation  of  chances  in  the  existing  competi 
tion,  no  writer  can  hope  to  gain  a  living  by  books ;  and  to  do 
so  by  magazines  and  reviews  becomes  daily  more  difficult.' ': 

"Yes,  sir,  that  passage  is  not  encouraging;  but  I  comfort 
myself  with  another  from  the  same  book:  'In  a  national  or 
universal  point  of  view  the  labor  of  the  savant  or  specu 
lative  thinker  is  as  much  a  part  of  production,  in  the  very 
narrowest  sense,  as  that  of  the  inventor  of  a  practical  art. 
The  electro-magnetic  telegraph  was  the  wonderful  and  most 
unexpected  consequence  of  the  experiments  of  Oersted,  and 
the  mathematical  investigations  of  Ampere ;  and  the  modern 
art  of  navigation  is  an  unforseen  emanation  from  the  purely 
speculative  and  apparently  meekly  curious  inquiry,  by  the 
mathematicians  of  Alexandria,  into  the  properties  of  three 


ST.  ELMO.  323 

curves  formed  by  the  intersection  of  a  plane  surface  and  a 
cone.    No  limit  can  be  set  to  the  importance,  even  in  a  purely 
productive  and  material  point  of  view,  of  mere  thought.'  Sir, 
the  economic  law  which  regulates  the  wages  of  mechanics 
should  operate  correspondingly  in  the  realm  of  letters." 
"Your  memory  is  remarkably  accurate." 
"Not  always,  sir ;  but  when  I  put  it  on  its  honor,  and  trust 
some  special  treasure  to  its  guardianship,  it  rarely  proves 
treacherous." 

"I  think  you  can  command  better  wages  for  your  work  in 
New  York  than  anywhere  else  on  this  continent.  You  have 
begun  well ;  permit  me  to  say  to  you  be  careful,  do  not 
write  too  rapidly,  and  do  not  despise  adverse  criticism.  If 
agreeable  to  you,  I  will  call  early  next  week  and  accom 
pany  you  to  the  public  libraries,  which  contain  much  that 
may  interest  you.  I  will  send  you  a  note  as  soon  as  I  ascer 
tain  when  I  can  command  the  requisite  leisure ;  and  should 
you  need  my  services,  I  hope  you  will  not  hesitate  to  claim 
them.  Good-evening,  Miss  Earl." 

He  bowed  himself  out  of  the  library,  and  Edna  went  back 
to  her  own  room,  thinking  of  the  brief  interview,  and  con 
fessing  her  disappointment  in  the  conversation  of  this  most 
dreaded  of  critics. 

"He  is  polished  as  an  icicle,  and  quite  as  cold.  He  may 
be  very  accurate  and  astute  and  profound,  but  certainly  he 

is  not  half  so  brilliant  as " 

She  did  not  complete  the  parallel,  but  compressed  her  lips, 
took  up  her  pen,  and  began  to  write. 

On  the  following  morning  Mrs.  Andrews  came  into  the 
schoolroom,  and,  after  kissing  her  children,  turned  blandly 
to  the  governess. 

"Miss  Earl,  I  believe  Mr.  Manning  called  upon  you  last 
evening.  Where  did  you  know  him  ?" 

"I  never  saw  him  until  yesterday,  but  we  have  corre 
sponded  for  some  time." 

"Indeed !  you  are  quite  honored.  He  is  considered  very 
fastidious." 

"He  is  certainly  hypercritical,  yet  I  have  found  him  kind 
and  gentlemanly,  even  courteous.  Our  correspondence  is 
entirely  attributable  to  the  fact  that  I  write  for  his  maga 
zine." 


324 


ST.  ELMO. 


Mrs.  Andrews  dropped  her  ivory  crochet-needle  and  sat, 
for  a  moment,  the  picture  of  wild-eyed  amazement. 

"Is  it  possible !  I  had  no  idea  you  were  an  author.  Why 
did  you  not  tell  me  before?  What  have  you  written?" 

Edna  mentioned  the  titles  of  her  published  articles,  and 
the  lady  of  the  house  exclaimed : 

"Oh!  that  'Vigil  of  Grutli'  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
things  I  ever  read,  and  I  have  often  teased  Mr.  Manning 
to  tell  me  who  wrote  it.  That  apostrophe  to  the  Thirty 
Confederates  is  so  mournfully  grand  that  it  brings  tears  to 
my  eyes.  Why,  Miss  Earl,  you  will  be  famous  some  clay! 
If  I  had  your  genius,  I  should  never  think  of  plodding 
through  life  as  a  governess." 

"But,  my  dear  madam,  I  must  make  my  bread,  and  am 
compelled  to  teach  while  I  write." 

"I  do  not  see  what  time  you  have  for  writing.  I  notice 
you  never  leave  the  children  till  they  are  asleep;  and  you 
must  sleep  enough  to  keep  yourself  alive.  Are  you  writing 
anything  at  present?" 

"I  finished  an  article  several  days  ago  which  will  be  pub 
lished  in  the  next  number  of  the  magazine.  Of  course,  I 
have  no  leisure  during  the  day,  but  I  work  till  late  at  night." 

"Miss  Earl,  if  you  have  no  objection  to  acquainting  me 
with  your  history,  I  should  like  very  much  to  know  some 
thing  of  your  early  life  and  education." 

While  Edna  gave  a  brief  account  of  her  childhood,  Felix 
nestled  his  hand  into  hers,  and  laid  his  head  on  her  knee, 
listening  eagerly  to  every  word. 

When  she  concluded,  Mrs.  Andrews  mused  a  moment, 
and  then  said : 

"Henceforth,  Miss  Earl,  you  will  occupy  a  different  posi 
tion  in  my  house ;  and  I  shall  take  pleasure  in  introducing 
you  to  such  of  my  friends  as  will  appreciate  your  talent.  I 
hope  you  will  not  confine  yourself  exclusively  to  my  chil 
dren,  but  come  down  sometimes  in  the  evening  and  sit  with 
me;  and,  moreover,  I  prefer  that  you  should  dine  with  us, 
instead  of  with  these  nursery  folks,  who  are  not  quite  capa 
ble  of  appreciating  you " 

"How  do  you  know  that,  mamma?  I  can  tell  you  one 
thing,  I  appreciated  her  before  I  found  ont  that  she  was 
likely  to  be  'famous' !  Before  I  knew  that  Mr.  Manning 


ST.  ELMO.  325 

condescended  to  notice  her.  We  'nursery  folk'  judge  for 
ourselves,  we  don't  wait  to  find  out  what  other  people  think, 
and  I  shan't  give  up  Miss  Earl !  She  is  my  governess,  and 
I  wish  you  would  just  let  her  alone !" 

There  was  a  touch  of  scorn  in  the  boy's  impatient  tone, 
and  his  mother  bit  her  lip,  and  laughed  constrainedly : 

"Really,  Felix !  who  gave  you  a  bill  of  sale  to  Miss  Earl  ? 
She  should  consider  herself  exceedingly  fortunate,  as  she  is 
the  first  of  all  your  teachers  with  whom  you  have  not  quar 
relled  most  shamefully,  even  fought  and  scratched." 

"And  because  she  is  sweet,  and  good  and  pretty,  and  I 
love  her,  you  must  interfere  and  take  her  off  to  entertain 
your  company.  She  came  here  to  take  care  of  Hattie  and 
me,  and  not  to  go  down-stairs  to  see  visitors.  She  can't  go, 
mamma !  I  want  her  myself.  You  have  all  the  world  to  talk 
to,  and  I  have  only  her.  Don't  meddle,  mamma." 

"You  are  very  selfish  and  ill-tempered,  my  poor  little 
boy,  and  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  you." 

"If  I  am,  it  is  because " 

"Hush,  Felix !" 

Edna  laid  her  hand  on  the  pale,  curling  lips  of  the  cripple, 
and  luckily  at  this  instant  Mrs.  Andrews  was  summoned 
from  the  room. 

Scarcely  waiting  till  the  door  closed  after  her,  the  boy 
exclaimed  passionately : 

"Felix !  don't  call  me  Felix !  That  means  happy,  lucky ! 
and  she  had  no  right  to  give  me  such  a  name.  I  am  Infelix ! 
nobody  loves  me !  nobody  cares  for  me,  except  to  pity  me, 
and  I  would  rather  be  strangled  than  pitied !  I  wish  I  was 
dead  and  at  rest  in  Greenwood !  I  wish  somebody  would 
knock  my  brains  out  with  my  crutch !  and  save  me  from 
hobbling  through  life.  Even  my  mother  is  ashamed  of  my 
deformity !  She  ought  to  have  treated  me  as  the  Spartans 
did  their  dwarfs!  She  ought  to  have  thrown  me  into  the 
East  River  before  I  was  a  day  old !  I  wish  I  was  dead !  Oh ! 
I  do  !  I  do !" 

"Felix,  it  is  very  wicked  to — 

"I  tell  you  I  won't  be  called  Felix.  Whenever  I  hear  the 
name  it  makes  me  feel  as  I  did  one  day  when  my  crutches 
slipped  on  the  ice,  and  I  fell  on  the  pavement  before  the 
door,  and  some  newsboys  stood  and  laughed  at  me.  Infelix 


326  ST.  ELMO. 

Andrews !  I  want  that  written  on  my  tombstone  when  I  am 
buried." 

He  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  angry  tears  dimmed 
his  large,  flashing  eyes,  while  Hattie  sat  with  her  elbows 
resting  on  her  knees,  and  her  chin  in  her  hands,  looking 
sorrowfully  at  her  brother. 

Edna  put  her  arm  around  the  boy's  shoulder,  and  drew 
his  head  down  on  her  lap,  saying  tenderly : 

"Your  mother  did  not  mean  that  she  was  ashamed  of  her 
son,  but  only  grieved  and  mortified  by  his  ungovernable 
temper,  which  made  him  disrespectful  to  her.  I  know  that 
she  is  very  proud  of  your  fine  intellect,  and  your  ambition  to 
become  a  thorough  scholar,  and " 

"Oh !  yes,  and  of  my  handsome  body !  and  my  pretty  feet !" 

"My  dear  little  boy,  it  is  sinful  for  you  to  speak  in  that 
way,  and  God  will  punish  you  if  you  do  not  struggle  against 
such  feelings." 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can  be  punished  any  more  than  I  have 
been  already.  To  be  a  lame  dwarf  is  the  worst  that  can 
happen." 

"Suppose  you  were  poor  and  friendless — an  orphan  with 
no  one  to  care  for  you?  Suppose  you  had  no  dear,  good 
little  sister  like  Hattie  to  love  you  ?  Now,  Felix,  I  know  that 
the  very  fact  that  you  are  not  as  strong  and  well-grown  as 
most  boys  of  your  age,  only  makes  your  mother  and  all  of 
us  love  you  more  tenderly;  and  it  is  very  ungrateful  in  you 
to  talk  so  bitterly  when  we  are  trying  to  make  you  happy 
and  good  and  useful.  Look  at  little  Lila,  shut  up  in  silence, 
unable  to  speak  one  word;  or  to  hear  a  bird  sing  or  a  baby 
laugh,  and  yet  see  how  merry  and  good-natured  she  is.  How 
much  more  afflicted  she  is  than  you  are !  Suppose  she  was 
always  fretting  and  complaining,  looking  miserable  and  sour, 
and  out  of  humor,  do  you  think  you  would  love  her  half  as 
well  as  you  do  now?" 

He  made  no  reply,  but  his  thin  hands  covered  his  sallow 
face. 

Hattie  came  close  to  him,  sat  down  on  the  carpet,  and 
put  her  head,  thickly  crowned  with  yellow  curls,  on  his  knee. 
Her  uncle  Grey  had  given  her  a  pretty  ring  the  day  before, 
and  now  she  silently  and  softly  took  it  from  her  own  finger, 
and  slipped  it  on  her  brother's. 


ST.  ELMO. 


327 


"Felix,  you  and  Hattie  were  so  delighted  with  that  little 
poem  which  I  read  to  you  from  the  Journal  of  Eugenie  de 
Guerin,  that  I  have  tried  to  set  it  to  music  for  you.  The 
tune  does  not  suit  it  exactly,  but  we  can  use  it  until  I  find  a 
better  one." 

She  went  to  the  piano  and  sang  that  pretty  nursery  ballad, 
"Joujou,  THE  ANGEL  OF  THE  PLAYTHINGS." 

Hattie  clapped  her  hands  with  delight,  and  Felix  partly 
forgot  his  woes  and  grievances. 

"Now,  I  want  you  both  to  learn  to  sing  it,  and  I  will 
teach  Hattie  the  accompaniment.  On  Felix's  birthday, 
which  is  not  very  distant,  you  can  surprise  your  father  and 
mother  by  singing  it  for  them.  In  gratitude  to  the  author  I 
think  every  little  child  should  sing  it  and  call  it  'Eugenie's 
Angel  Song.'  Hattie,  it  is  eleven  o'clock,  and  time  for  you 
to  practice  your  music-lesson." 

The  little  girl  climbed  upon  the  piano-stool  and  began 
to  count  aloud,  and  after  a  while  Edna  bent  down  and  put 
her  hand  on  Felix's  shoulder. 

"You  grieved  your  mother  this  morning  and  spoke  very 
disrespectfully  to  her.  I  know  you  regret  it,  and  you  ought 
to  tell  her  so  and  ask  her  to  forgive  you.  You  would  feel 
happier  all  day  if  you  would  only  acknowledge  your  fault. 
I  hear  your  mother  in  her  own  room ;  will  you  not  go  and 
kiss  her?" 

He  averted  his  head  and  muttered: 

"I  don't  want  to  kiss  her." 

"But  you  ought  to  be  a  dutiful  son,  and  you  are  not;  and 
your  mother  has  cause  to  be  displeased  with  you.  If  you 
should  ever  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose  her,  and  stand  as  I 
do,  motherless,  in  the  world,  you  will  regret  the  pain  you 
gave  her  this  morning.  Oh!  if  I  had  the  privilege  of  kissing 
my  mother,  I  could  bear  almost  any  sorrow  patiently.  If 
it  mortifies  you  to  acknowledge  your  bad  behavior,  it  is  the 
more  necessary  that  you  should  humble  your  pride.  Felix, 
sometimes  I  think  it  requires  more  nobility  of  soul  to  ask 
pardon  for  our  faults  than  to  resist  the  temptation  to  com 
mit  them." 

She  turned  away  and  busied  herself  in  correcting  his 
Latin  exercise,  and  for  some  time  the  boy  sat  sullen  and 
silent. 


328  ST.  ELMO. 

At  length  he  sighed  heavily,  and  taking  his  crutches,  came 
up  to  the  table  where  she  sat. 

"Suppose  you  tell  my  mother  I  am  sorry  I  was  disre 
spectful." 

"Felix,  are  you  really  sorry  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  then  go  and  tell  her  so,  and  she  will  love  you  a 
thousand  times  more  than  ever  before.  The  confession 
should  come  from  your  own  lips." 

He  stood  irresolute  and  sighed  again: 

"I  will  go  if  you  will  go  with  me." 

She  rose  and  they  went  to  Mrs.  Andrew's  room.  The 
mother  was  superbly  dressed  in  visiting  costume,  and  was 
tying  on  her  bonnet  when  they  entered. 

"Mrs.  Andrews,  your  son  wishes  to  say  something  which 
I  think  you  will  be  glad  to  hear." 

"Indeed!    Well,  Felix,  what  is  it?" 

"Mamma — I  believe — I  know  I  was  very  cross — and  dis 
respectful  to  you — and  oh,  mamma!  I  hope  you  will  forgive 
me!" 

He  dropped  his  crutches  and  stretched  out  his  arms,  and 
Mrs.  Andrews  threw  down  the  diamond  cluster,  with  which 
she  was  fastening  her  ribbons,  and  caught  the  boy  to  her 
bosom. 

"My  precious  child!  my  darling!  Of  course  I  forgive 
you  gladly.  My  dear  son,  if  you  only  knew  half  how  well 
I  love  you,  you  would  not  grieve  me  so  often  by  your  pas 
sionate  temper.  My  darling! " 

She  stooped  to  kiss  him,  and  when  she  turned  to  look  for 
the  girlish  form  of  the  governess,  it  was  no  longer  visible; 
mother  and  son  were  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

DURING  the  first  few  months  after  her  removal  to  New 
York,  Edna  received  frequent  letters  from  Mrs.  Murray 
and  Mr.  Hammond ;  but  as  winter  advanced  they  wrote  more 
rarely  and  hurriedly,  and  finally,  many  weeks  elapsed  with 
out  bringing  any  tidings  from  Le  Bocage.  St.  Elmo's  name 
was  never  mentioned,  and  while  the  girl's  heart  ached,  she 
crushed  it  more  ruthlessly  day  by  day,  and  in.  retaliation  im 
posed  additional  and  unremitting  toil  upon  her  brain. 

Mr.  Manning  had  called  twice  to  escort  her  to  the  libra 
ries  and  art  galleries,  and  occasionally  he  sent  her  new 
books,  and  English  and  French  periodicals;  but  his  chill, 
imperturbable  calmness  oppressed  and  embarrassed  Edna, 
and  formed  a  barrier  to  all  friendly  worth  in  their  inter 
course.  He  so  completely  overawed  her  that  in  his  august 
presence  she  was  unable  to  do  herself  justice,  and  felt  that 
she  was  not  gaining  ground  in  his  good  opinion.  The  brood 
ing  serenity  of  his  grave,  Egyptic  face  was  not  contagious ; 
and  she  was  conscious  of  a  vague  disquiet,  a  painful  rest 
lessness,  when  in  his  company  and  under  his  cold,  changeless 
eyes. 

One  morning  in  January,  as  she  sat  listening  to  Felix's 
recitations,  Mrs.  Andrews  came  into  the  school-room  with 
an  open  note  in  one  hand,  and  an  exquisite  bouquet  in  the 
other. 

"Miss  Earl,  here  is  an  invitation  for  you  to  accompany 
Mr.  Manning  to  the  opera  to-night;  and  here,  too,  is  a 
bouquet  from  the  same  considerate  gentleman.  As  he  does 
me  the  honor  to  request  my  company  also,  I  came  to  confer 
with  you  before  sending  a  reply.  Of  course,  you  will  go?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Andrews,  if  you  will  go  with  me." 

Edna  bent  over  her  flowers,  and  recognizing  many  favor 
ites  that  recalled  the  hothouse  at  Le  Bocage,  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  and  she  hastily  put  her  lips  to  the  snowy  cups  of 
an  oxalis.  How  often  she  had  seen  just  such  fragile  petals 
nestling  in  the  buttonhole  of  Mr.  Murray's  coat. 

[329] 


V,o  ST-  ELMO. 

\}\J 

"I  shall  write  and  invite  him  to  come  early  and  take  tea 
with  us.  Now,  Miss  Earl,  pardon  my  candor,  I  should  like 
to  know  what  you  intend  to  wear?  You  know  that  Mr. 
Manning  is  quite  lionized  here,  and  you  will  have  to  face  a 
terrific  battery  of  eyes  and  lorgnettes;  for  everybody  will 
stretch  his  or  her  neck  to  find  out,  first,  who  you  are,  and 
secondly,  how  you  are  dressed.  Now  I  think  I  understand 
rather  better  than  you  do  what  is  comme  il  faut  in  these  mat 
ters  and  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  dictate  on  this  occa 
sion.  Moreover,  our  distinguished  escort  is  extremely  fas 
tidious  concerning  ladies'  toilettes." 

"Here  are  my  keys,  Mrs.  Andrews;  examine  my  ward 
robe  and  select  what  you  consider  appropriate  for  to-night." 

"On  condition  that  you  permit  me  to  supply  any  deficien 
cies  which  I  may  discover?  Come  to  my  room  at  six  o'clock, 
and  let  Victorine  dress  your  hair.  Let  me  see,  I  expect 
a  la  Grcc  will  best  suit  your  head  and  face." 

Edna  turned  to  her  pupils  and  their  books,  but  all  day 
the  flowers  in  the  vase  on  the  table  prattled  of  days  gone  by; 
of  purple  sunsets  streaming  through  golden  starred  acacia 
boughs ;  of  long,  languid,  luxurious  Southern  afternoons 
dying  slowly  on  beds  of  heliotrope  and  jasmine,  spicy  gera 
niums  and  gorgeous  pelargoniums;  of  dewy,  delicious  sum 
mer  mornings,  for  ever  and  ever  past,  when  standing  beside 
a  quivering  snowbank  of  Lamarque  roses,  she  had  watched 
Tamerlane  and  his  gloomy  rider  go  down  the  shadowy  ave 
nue  of  elms. 

The  monotonous  hum  of  the  children's  voices  seemed  thin 
and  strange  and  far,  far  off,  jarring  the  sweet  bouquet  bab 
ble  ;  and  still  as  the  hours  passed,  and  the  winter  day  waned, 
the  flower  Fugue  swelled  on  and  on,  through  the  cold  and 
dreary  chambers  of  her  heart;  now  rising  stormy  and  pas 
sionate,  like  a  battle-blast,  from  the  deep  orange  trumpet 
of  a  bignonia ;  and  now  whispering  and  sobbing  and  plead 
ing,  from  the  pearly  white  lips  of  hallowed  oxalis. 

When  she  sat  that  night  in  Mr.  Manning's  box  at  the 
Academy  of  Music,  the  editor  raised  his  opera-glass,  swept 
the  crowded  house,  scanning  the  lovely,  beaming  faces 
wreathed  with  smiles,  and  then  his  grave,  piercing  glance 
came  back  and  dwelt  on  the  countenance  at  his  side.  The 
cherry  silk  lining  and  puffing  on  her  opera-cloak  threw  a 


ST.  ELMO.  331 

delicate  stain  of  color  over  her  exquisitely  moulded  cheeks, 
and  in  the  braid  of  black  hair  which  rested  like  a  coronal  on 
her  polished  brow,  burned  a  scarlet  anemone.  Her  long 
lashes  drooped  as  she  looked  down  at  the  bouquet  between 
her  fingers,  and  listening  to  the  Fugue  which  memory 
played  on  the  petals,  she  sighed  involuntarily. 

"Miss  Earl,  is  this  your  first  night  at  the  opera?" 

"No,  sir ;  I  was  here  once  before  with  Mr.  Andrews  and 
his  children." 

"I  judge  from  your  writings  that  you  are  particularly  fond 
of  music." 

"Yes,  sir ;  I  think  few  persons  love  it  better  than  I  do." 

"What  style  do  you  prefer?" 

"Sacred  music — oratorios  rather  than  operas." 

The  orchestra  began  an  overture  of  Verdi's,  and  Edna's 
eyes  went  back  to  her  flowers. 

Presently  Mrs.  Andrews  said  eagerly: 

"Look,  Miss  Earl!  Yonder,  in  the  box  directly  opposite, 
is  the  celebrated  Sir  Roger  Percival,  the  English  nobleman 
about  whom  all  Gotham  is  running  mad.  If  he  has  not 
more  sense  than  most  men  of  his  age,  his  head  will  be  com 
pletely  turned  by  the  flattery  heaped  upon  him.  What  a 
commentary  on  Republican  Americans,  that  we  are  so  daz 
zled  by  the  glitter  of  a  title!  However,  he  really  is  very 
agreeable;  I  have  met  him  several  times,  dined  with  him 
last  week  at  the  Coltons.  He  has  been  watching  us  for 
some  minutes.  Ah !  there  is  a  bow  for  me ;  and  one  I  pre 
sume  for  you,  Mr.  Manning." 

"Yes,  I  knew  him  abroad.  We  spent  a  month  together 
at  Dresden,  and  his  brain  is  strong  enough  to  bear  all  the 
adulation  New  Yorkers  offer  his  title." 

Edna  looked  into  the  opposite  box,  and  saw  a  tall,  ele 
gantly-dressed  man,  with  huge  whiskers  and  a  glittering 
opera-glass;  and  then  as  the  curtain  rose  on  the  first  act  of 
"Ernani,"  she  turned  to  the  stage,  and  gave  her  entire  atten 
tion  to  the  music. 

At  the  close  of  the  second  act  Mrs.  Andrews  said : 

"Pray  who  is  that  handsome  man  down  yonder  in  the 
parquet,  fanning  himself  with  a  libretto!  I  do  not  think 
his  eyes  have  moved  from  this  box  for  the  last  ten  minutes. 
He  is  a  stranger  to  me." 


332 


ST.  ELMO. 


She  turned  her  fan  in  the  direction  of  the  person  indi 
cated,  and  Mr.  Manning  looked  down  and  answered: 

"He  is  unknown  to  me." 

Edna's  eyes  involuntarily  wandered  over  the  sea  of  heads, 
and  the  editor  saw  her  start  and  lean  forward,  and  noticed 
the  sudden  joy  that  flashed  into  her  face,  as  she  met  the 
earnest,  upward  gaze  of  Gordon  Leigh. 

"An  acquaintance  of  yours,  Miss  Earl?" 

"Yes,  sir,  an  old  friend  from  the  South." 

The  door  of  the  box  opened,  and  Sir  Roger  Percival 
came  in  and  seated  himself  near  Mrs.  Andrews,  who  in 
her  cordial  welcome  seemed  utterly  to  forget  the  presence 
of  the  governess. 

Mr.  Manning  sat  close  to  Edna,  and  taking  a  couple  of 
letters  from  his  pocket  he  laid  them  on  her  lap,  saying: 

"These  letters  were  directed  to  my  care  by  persons  who 
are  ignorant  of  your  name  and  address.  If  you  will  not 
consider  me  unpardonably  curious,  I  should  like  to  know 
the  nature  of  their  contents." 

She  broke  the  seals  and  read  the  most  flattering  com 
mendations  of  her  magazine  sketches,  the  most  cordial 
thanks  for  the  pleasure  derived  from  their  perusal ;  but  the 
signatures  were  unknown  to  her. 

A  sudden  wave  of  crimson  surged  into  her  face  as  she 
silently  put  the  letters  into  Mr.  Manning's  hand,  and 
watched  his  grave,  fixed,  undemonstrative  features,  while 
he  read,  refolded,  and  returned  them  to  her. 

"Miss  Earl,  I  have  received  several  documents  of  a  simi 
lar  character  asking  for  your  address.  Do  you  still  desire 
to  write  incognito,  or  do  you  wish  your  name  given  to 
your  admirers?" 

"That  is  a  matter  which  I  am  willing  to  leave  to  your 
superior  judgment." 

"Pardon  me,  but  I  much  prefer  that  you  determine  it  for 
yourself." 

"Then  you  may  give  my  name  to  those  who  are  suffi 
ciently  interested  in  me  to  write  and  make  the  inquiry." 

Mr.  Manning  smiled  slightly,  and  lowered  his  voice  as 
he  said: 

"Sir  Roger  Percival  came  here  to-night  to  be  intro 
duced  to  you.  He  has  expressed  much  curiosity  to  see  the 


ST.  ELMO.  333 

author  of  the  last  article  which  you  contributed  to  the 
magazine ;  and  I  told  him  that  you  would  be  in  my  box  this 
evening.  Shall  I  present  him  now?" 

Mr.  Manning  was  rising,  but  Edna  put  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  and  answered  hurriedly : 

"No,  no !  He  is  engaged  in  conversation  with  Mrs.  An 
drews,  and,  moreover,  I  believe  I  do  not  particularly  desire 
to  be  presented  to  him." 

"Here  comes  your  friend;  I  will  vacate  this  seat  in  his 
favor." 

He  rose,  bowed  to  Gordon  Leigh,  and  gave  him  the  chair 
which  he  had  occupied. 

"Edna !  how  I  have  longed  to  see  you  once  more !" 

Gordon's  hand  seized  hers,  and  his  handsome  face  was 
eloquent  with  feelings  which  he  felt  no  inclination  to  con 
ceal. 

"The  sight  of  your  countenance  is  an  unexpected  pleas 
ure  in  New  York.  Mr.  Leigh,  when  did  you  arrive?" 

"This  afternoon.  Mr.  Hammond  gave  me  your  address, 
and  I  called  to  see  you,  but  was  told  that  you  were  here." 

"How  are  they  all  at  home?" 

"Do  you  mean  at  Le  Bocage  or  the  Parsonage?" 

"I  mean  how  are  all  my  friends?" 

"Mrs.  Murray  is  very  well,  Miss  Estelle,  ditto.  Mr. 
Hammond  has  been  sick,  but  was  better  and  able  to  preach 
before  I  left.  I  brought  a  letter  for  you  from  him,  but  un 
fortunately  left  it  in  the  pocket  of  my  travelling  coat. 
Edna,  you  have  changed  very  much  since  I  saw  you  last." 

"In  what  respect,  Mr.  Leigh?" 

The  crash  of  the  orchestra  filled  the  house  and  people 
turned  once  more  to  the  stage.  Standing  with  his  arms 
folded,  Mr.  Manning  saw  the  earnest  look  on  Gordon's 
face  as,  with  his  arm  resting  on  the  back  of  Edna's  chair, 
he  talked  in  a  low,  eager  tone ;  and  a  pitying  smile  partly 
curved  the  editor's  granite  mouth  as  he  noticed  the  ex 
pression  of  pain  on  the  girl's  face,  and  heard  her  say 
coldly : 

"No,  Mr.  Leigh ;  what  I  told  you  then  I  repeat  now. 
Time  has  made  no  change." 

The  opera  ended,  the  curtain  fell,  and  an  enthusiastic 
audience  called  out  the  popular  prima  donna. 


334 


ST.  ELMO. 


While  bouquets  were  showered  upon  her,  Mr.  Man 
ning  stooped  and  put  his  hand  on  Edna's: 

"Shall  I  throw  your  tribute  for  you?" 

She  hastily  caught  the  bouquet  from  his  fingers,  and  re 
plied  : 

"Oh !  no,  thank  you !    I  am  so  selfish,  I  can  not  spare  it." 

"I  shall  call  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  to  deliver  your  let 
ter,"  said  Gordon,  as  he  stood  hat  in  hand. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Leigh." 

He  shook  hands  with  her  and  with  Mr.  Manning,  to 
whom  she  had  introduced  him,  and  left  the  box. 

Sir  Roger  Percival  gave  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Andrews,  and 
the  editor  drew  Edna's  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  took  her 
hand  and  led  her  down  the  steps. 

As  her  little  gloved  fingers  rested  in  his,  the  feeling  of 
awe  and  restraint  melted  away,  and  looking  into  his  face 
she  said : 

"Mr.  Manning,  I  do  not  think  you  will  ever  know  half 
how  much  I  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness  to  an  un 
known  authorling.  I  have  enjoyed  the  music  very  much 
indeed.  How  is  Lila  to-night?" 

A  slight  tremor  crossed  his  lips ;  the  petrified  hawthorn 
was  quivering  into  life. 

"She  is  quite  well,  thank  you.  Pray,  what  do  you  know 
about  her?  I  was  not  aware  that  I  had  ever  mentioned 
her  name  in  your  presence." 

"My  pupil,  Felix,  is  her  most  devoted  knight,  and  I  see 
her  almost  every  afternoon  when  I  go  with  the  children 
to  Central  Park." 

They  reached  the  carnage  where  the  Englishman  stood 
talking  to  Mrs.  Andrews,  and  when  Mr.  Manning  had 
handed  Edna  in,  he  turned  and  said  something  to  Sir 
Roger,  who  laughed  lightly  and  walked  away. 

During  the  drive  Mrs.  Andrews  talked  volubly  of  the 
foreigner's  ease  and  elegance  and  fastidious  musical  taste, 
and  Mr.  Manning  listened  courteously  and  bowed  coldly  in 
reply.  When  they  reached  home  she  invited  him  to  dinner 
on  the  following  Thursday,  to  meet  Sir  Roger  Percival. 

As  the  editor  bade  them  good-night  he  said  to  Edna: 

"Go  to  sleep  at  once;  do  not  sit  up  to  work  to-night." 

Did  she  follow  his  sage  advice?    Ask  of  the  stars  that 


ST.  ELMO.  335 

watched  her  through  the  long  winter  night,  and  the  dappled 
dawn  that  saw  her  stooping  wearily  over  her  desk. 

At  the  appointed  hour  on  the  following  morning  Mr. 
Leigh  called,  and  after  some  desultory  remarks  he  asked, 
rather  abruptly: 

"Has  St.  Elmo  Murray  written  to  you  about  his  last 
whim  ?" 

"I  do  not  correspond  with  Mr.  Murray." 

"Everybody  wonders  what  droll  freak  will  next  .seize 
him.  Reed,  the  blacksmith,  died  several  months  ago  and, 
to  the  astonishment  of  our  people,  Mr.  Murray  has  taken 
his  orphan,  Huldah,  to  Le  Bocage;  has  adopted  her  I  be 
lieve;  at  all  events,  is  educating  her." 

Edna's  face  grew  radiant. 

"Oh!  I  am  glad  to  hear  it!  Poor  little  Huldah  needed  a 
friend,  and  she  could  not  possibly  have  fallen  into  kinder 
hands  than  Mr.  Murray's." 

"There  certainly  exists  some  diversity  of  opinion  on  that 
subject.  He  is  rather  too  grim  a  guardian,  I  fancy,  for 
one  so  young  as  Huldah  Reed." 

"Is  Mr.  Hammond  teaching  Huldah?" 

"Oh!  no.  Herein  consists  the  wonder.  Murray  himself 
hears  her  lessons,  so  Estelle  told  my  sister.  A  propos! 
rumor  announces  the  approaching  marriage  of  the  cousins. 
My  sister  informed  me  that  it  would  take  place  early  in 
the  spring." 

"Do  you  allude  to  Mr.  Murray  and  Miss  Harding?" 

"I  do.  They  will  go  to  Europe  immediately  after  their 
marriage." 

Gordon  looked  searchingly  at  his  companion,  but  saw 
only  a  faint,  incredulous  smile  cross  her  calm  face. 

"My  sister  is  Estelle's  confidante,  so  you  see  I  speak  ad 
visedly.  I  know  that  her  trousseau  has  been  ordered  from 
Paris." 

Edna's  fingers  closed  spasmodically  over  each  other,  but 
she  laughed  as  she  answered: 

"How  then  dare  you  betray  her  confidence?  Air.  Leigh, 
how  long  will  you  remain  in  New  York?" 

"I  shall  leave  to-morrow,  unless  I  have  reason  to  hope 
that  a  longer  visit  will  give  you  pleasure.  I  came  here 
solely  to  see  you." 


336  ST.  ELMO. 

He  attempted  to  unclasp  her  fingers,  but  she  shook  off 
his  hand  and  said  quickly: 

"I  know  what  you  are  about  to  say,  and  I  would  rather 
not  hear  what  would  only  distress  us  both.  If  you  wish 
me  to  respect  you,  Mr.  Leigh,  you  must  never  again  allude 
to  a  subject  which  I  showed  you  last  night  was  exceedingly 
painful  to  me.  While  I  value  you  as  a  friend,  and  am  re 
joiced  to  see  you  again,  I  should  regret  to  learn  that  you  had 
prolonged  your  stay  even  one  hour  on  my  account." 

"You  are  ungrateful,  Edna !  And  I  begin  to  realize  that 
you  are  utterly  heartless." 

"If  I  am,  at  least  I  have  never  trifled  with  or  deceived 
you,  Mr.  Leigh." 

"You  have  no  heart,  or  you  certainly  could  not  so  coldly 
reject  an  affection  which  any  other  woman  would  proudly 
accept.  A  few  years  hence,  when  your  insane  ambition  is 
fully  satiated,  and  your  beauty  fades,  and  your  writings 
pall  upon  public  taste,  and  your  smooth-tongued  flatterers 
forsake  your  shrine  to  bow  before  that  of  some  new  and 
more  popular  idol,  then  Edna,  you  will  rue  your  folly." 

She  rose  and  answered  quietly: 

"The  future  may  contain  only  disappointments  for  me, 
but  however  lonely,  however  sad  my  lot  may  prove,  I  think 
I  shall  never  fall  so  low  as  to  regret  not  having  married 
a  man  whom  I  find  it  impossible  to  love.  The  sooner  this 
interview  ends  the  longer  our  friendship  will  last.  My  time 
is  not  now  my  own,  and  as  my  duties  claim  me  in  the  school 
room,  I  must  bid  you  good-bye." 

"Edna,  if  you  send  me  away  from  you  now,  you  shall 
never  look  upon  my  face  again  in  this  world !" 

Mournfully  her  tearful  eyes  sought  his,  but  her  voice 
was  low  and  steady  as  she  put  out  both  hands,  and  said 
solemnly : 

"Farewell,  dear  friend.  God  grant  that  when  next  we 
see  each  other's  faces  they  may  be  overshadowed  by  the 
shining,  white  plumes  of  our  angel  wings,  in  that  city  of 
God,  'where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  and  the 
weary  are  at  rest.'  'Never  again  in  this  world,'  ah!  such 
words  are  dreary  and  funereal  as  the  dull  fall  of  clods  on  a 
coffin-lid ;  but  so  be  it.  Thank  God !  time  brings  us  all  to 
one  inevitable  tryst  before  the  great  white  throne." 


ST.  ELMO.  337 

He  took  the  hands,  bowed  his  forehead  upon  them  and 
groaned;  then  drew  them  to  his  lips  and  left  her. 

With  a  slow,  weary  step  she  turned  and  went  up  to  her 
room  and  read  Mr.  Hammond's  letter.  It  was  long  and 
kind,  full  of  affection  and  wise  counsel,  but  contained  no 
allusion  to  Mr.  Murray. 

As  she  refolded  it  she  saw  a  slip  of  paper  which  had 
fallen  unnoticed  on  the  carpet,  and  picking  it  up  she  read 
these  words : 

"It  grieves  me  to  have  to  tell  you  that,  after  all,  I  fear 
St.  Elmo  will  marry  Estelle  Harding.  He  does  not  love 
her,  she  can  not  influence  him  to  redeem  himself;  his 
future  looks  hopeless  indeed.  Edna,  my  child!  what  have 
you  done !  Oh !  what  have  you  done !" 

Her  heart  gave  a  sudden,  wild  bound,  then  a  spasm 
seemed  to  seize  it,  and  presently  the  fluttering  ceased,  her 
pulses  stopped,  and  a  chill  darkness  fell  upon  her. 

Her  head  sank  heavily  on  her  chest,  and  when  she  re 
covered  her  memory  she  felt  an  intolerable  sensation  of 
suffocation,  and  a  sharp  pain  that  seemed  to  stab  the  heart, 
whose  throbs  were  slow  and  feeble. 

She  raised  the  window  and  leaned  out  panting  for 
breath,  and  the  freezing  wind  powdered  her  face  with  fine 
snowflakes,  and  sprinkled  its  fairy  flower-crystals  over  her 
hair. 

The  outer  world  was  chill  and  dreary,  the  leafless  limbs 
of  the  trees  in  the  park  looked  ghostly  and  weird  against 
the  dense  dun  clouds  which  seemed  to  stretch  like  a  smoke 
mantle  just  above  the  sea  of  roofs ;  and,  dimly  seen  through 
the  white  mist,  Brooklyn's  heights  and  Staten's  hills  were 
huge  outlines  monstrous  as  Echidna. 

Physical  pain  blanched  Edna's  lips,  and  she  pressed  her 
hand  repeatedly  to  her  heart,  wondering  what  caused  those 
keen  pangs.  At  last,  when  the  bodily  suffering  passed  away, 
and  she  sat  down  exhausted,  her  mind  reverted  to  the 
sentence  in  Mr.  Hammond's  letter. 

She  knew  the  words  were  not  lightly  written,  and  that 
his  reproachful  appeal  had  broken  from  the  depths  of  his 
aching  heart,  and  was  intended  to  rouse  her  to  some  action. 

"I  can  do  nothing,  say  nothing!  Must  sit  still  and  wait 
patiently — prayerfully.  To-day,  if  I  could  put  out  my  hand 


338  ST.  ELMO. 

and  touch  Mr.  Murray,  and  bind  him  to  me  for  ever,  I 
would  not.  No,  no !  Not  a  finger  must  I  lift,  even  between 
him  and  Estelle !  But  he  will  not  marry  her !  I  know — I 
feel  that  he  will  not.  Though  I  never  look  upon  his  face 
again,  he  belongs  to  me !  He  is  mine,  and  no  other  woman 
can  take  him  from  me." 

A  strange,  mysterious,  shadowy  smile  settled  on  her 
pallid  features,  and  faintly  and  dreamily  she  repeated : 

"And  yet  I  know  past  all  doubting,  truly — 

A  knowledge  greater  than  grief  can  dim — 
I  know  as  he  loved,  he  will  love  me  duly, 

Yea,  better,  e'en  better  than  I  love  him. 
And  as  I  walk  by  the  vast,  calm  river, 

The  awful  river  so  dread  to  see, 
I  say,  '  Thy  breadth  and  thy  depth  for  ever 

Are  bridged  by  his  thoughts  that  cross  to  me.' " 

Her  lashes  drooped,  her  head  fell  back  against  the  top  of 
the  chair,  and  she  lost  all  her  woes  until  Felix's  voice 
roused  her,  and  she  saw  the  frightened  boy  standing  at 
her  side,  shaking  her  hand  and  calling  piteously  upon  her. 

"Oh !  I  thought  you  were  dead !  You  looked  so  white 
and  felt  so  cold.  Are  you  very  sick?  Shall  I  go  for 
mamma  ?" 

For  a  moment  she  looked  in  his  face  with  a  perplexed, 
bewildered  expression,  then  made  an  effort  to  rise. 

"I  suppose  that  I  must  have  fainted,  for  I  had  a  terrible 
pain  here,  and "  She  laid  her  hand  over  her  heart. 

"Felix,  let  us  go  down-stairs.  I  think  if  your  mother 
would  give  me  some  wine,  it  might  strengthen  me." 

Notwithstanding  the  snow,  Mrs.  Andrews  had  gone  out ; 
but  Felix  had  the  wine  brought  to  the  school-room,  and 
after  a  little  while  the  blood  showed  itself  shyly  in  the 
governess's  white  lips,  and  she  took  the  boy's  Latin  book 
and  heard  him  recite  his  lesson. 

The  day  appeared  wearily  long,  but  she  omitted  none 
of  the  appointed  tasks,  and  it  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  before 
Felix  fell  asleep  that  night.  Softly  unclasping  his  thin 
fingers  which  clung  to  her  hand,  she  went  up  to  her  own 
room,  feeling  the  full  force  of  those  mournful  words  in 
Eugenie  de  Guerin's  Journal : 

"It  goes  on  in  the  soul.    No  one  is  aware  of  what  I  feel ; 


ST.  ELMO.  339 

no  one  suffers  from  it.  I  only  pour  out  my  heart  before 
God — and  here.  Oh!  to-day  what  efforts  I  make  to  shake 
off  this  profitless  sadness — this  sadness  without  tears — arid, 
bruising  the  heart  like  a  hammer!" 

There  was  no  recurrence  of  the  physical  agony;  and 
after  two  days  the  feeling  of  prostration  passed  away,  and 
only  the  memory  of  the  attack  remained. 

The  idea  of  lionizing  her  children's  governess,  and  in 
troducing  her  to  soi-disant  "fashionable  society,"  had  taken 
possession  of  Mrs.  Andrews's  mind,  and  she  was  quite  as 
much  delighted  with  her  patronizing  scheme  as  a  child 
would  have  been  with  a  new  hobby-horse.  Dreams  at 
which  even  Macaenas  might  have  laughed  floated  through 
her  busy  brain,  and  filled  her  kind  heart  with  generous  an 
ticipations.  On  Thursday  she  informed  Edna  that  she  de 
sired  her  presence  at  dinner,  and  urged  her  request  with 
such  pertinacious  earnestness  that  no  alternative  remained 
but  acquiescence,  and  reluctantly  the  governess  prepared 
to  meet  a  formidable  party  of  strangers. 

When  Mrs.  Andrews  presented  Sir  Roger  Percival,  he 
bowed  rather  haughtily,  and  with  a  distant  politeness,  which 
assured  Edna  that  he  was  cognizant  of  her  refusal  to  make 
his  acquaintance  at  the  opera. 

During  the  early  part  of  dinner  he  divided  his  gay  words 
between  his  hostess  and  a  pretty  Miss  Morton,  who  was 
evidently  laying  siege  to  his  heart  and  carefully  flattering 
his  vanity ;  but  whenever  Edna,  his  vis-a-vis,  looked  toward 
him,  she  invariably  found  his  fine  brown  eyes  scrutinizing 
her  face. 

Mr.  Manning,  who  sat  next  to  Edna,  engaged  her  in  an 
animated  discussion  concerning  the  value  of  a  small  volume 
containing  two  essays  by  Buckle,  which  he  had  sent  her  a 
few  days  previous. 

Something  which  she  said  to  the  editor  with  reference 
to  Buckle's  extravagant  estimate  of  Mill,  brought  a  smile 
to  the  Englishman's  lip,  and  bowing  slightly,  he  said : 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Earl,  if  I  interrupt  you  a  moment  to 
express  my  surprise  at  hearing  Mill  denounced  by  an 
American.  His  books  on  Representative  Government  and 
Liberty  are  so  essentially  democratic  that  I  expected  only 


340 


ST.  ELMO. 


gratitude  and  eulogy  from  his  readers  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic." 

Despite  her  efforts  to  control  it,  embarrassment  unstrung 
her  nerves,  and  threw  a  quiver  into  her  voice,  as  she  an 
swered  : 

"I  do  not  presume,  sir,  to  'denounce'  a  man  whom  Buckle 
ranks  above  all  other  living  writers  and  statesmen,  but,  in 
anticipating  the  inevitable  result  of  the  adoption  of  some 
of  Mill's  proposed  social  reforms,  I  could  not  avoid  recall 
ing  that  wise  dictum  of  Frederick  the  Great  concerning 
philosophers — a  saying  which  Buckle  quotes  so  triumph 
antly  against  Plato,  Aristotle,  Descartes — even  Bacon,  New 
ton,  and  a  long  list  of  names  illustrious  in  the  annals  of 
English  literature.  Frederick  declared:  'If  I  wanted  to 
ruin  one  of  my  provinces  I  would  make  over  its  govern 
ment  to  the  philosopher.'  With  due  deference  to  Buckle's 
superior  learning  and  astuteness,  I  confess  my  study  of 
Mill's  philosophy  assures  me  that,  if  society  should  be 
turned  over  to  the  government  of  his  theory  of  Liberty  and 
Suffrage,  it  would  go  to  ruin  more  rapidly  than  Frederick's 
province.  Under  his  teachings  the  women  of  England 
might  soon  marshal  their  amazonian  legions,  and  storm  not 
only  Parnassus  but  the  ballot-box,  the  bench,  and  the  forum. 
That  this  should  occur  in  a  country  where  a  woman  nomi 
nally  rules,  and  certainly  reigns,  is  not  so  surprising,  but  I 
dread  the  contagion  of  such  an  example  upon  America." 

"His  influence  is  powerful,  from  the  fact  that  he  never 
takes  up  his  pen  without  using  it  to  break  some  social 
shackles;  and  its  strokes  are  tremendous  as  those  of  the 
hammer  of  Thor.  But  surely,  Miss  Earl,  you  Americans 
can  not  with  either  good  taste,  grace,  or  consistency,  up 
braid  England  on  the  score  of  woman's  rights'  move 
ments  ?" 

"At  least,  sir,  our  statesmen  are  not  yet  attacked  by  this 
most  loathsome  of  political  leprosies.  Only  a  few  crazy 
fanatics  have  fallen  victims  to  it,  and  if  lunatic  asylums  were 
not  frequently  cheated  of  their  dues,  these  would  not  be  left 
at  large,  but  shut  up  together  in  high-walled  enclosures, 
where,  like  Sydney  Smith's  'gramnivorous  metaphysicians,' 
or  Reaumur's  spiders,  they  could  only  injure  one  another 
and  destroy  their  own  webs.  America  has  no  Bentham, 


ST.  ELMO.  34! 

Bailey,  Hare  or  Mill,  to  lend  countenance  or  strength  to 
the  ridiculous  clamor  raised  by  a  few  unamiable  and 
wretched  wives,  and  as  many  embittered,  disappointed,  old 
maids  of  New  England.  The  noble  apology  which  Ed 
mund  Burke  once  offered  for  his  countrymen  always  re 
curs  to  my  mind  when  I  hear  these  'women's  conventions' 
alluded  to:  'Because  half-a-dozen  grasshoppers  under  a 
fern  make  the  field  ring  with  their  importunate  chink,  while 
thousands  of  great  cattle  repose  beneath  the  shade  of  the 
British  oak,  chew  the  cud,  and  are  silent,  pray  do  not 
imagine  that  those  who  make  the  noise  are  the  only  in 
habitants  of  the  field;  that,  of  course,  they  are  many  in 
number,  or  that,  after  all,  they  are  other  than  the  little, 
shrivelled,  meagre,  hopping,  though  loud  and  troublesome 
insects  of  the  hour.'  I  think,  sir,  that  the  noble  and  true 
women  of  this  continent  earnestly  believe  that  the  day  which 
invests  them  with  the  elective  franchise  would  be  the  black 
est  in  the  annals  of  humanity,  would  ring  the  death-knell 
of  modern  civilization,  of  national  prosperity,  social  moral 
ity,  and  domestic  happiness!  and  would  consign  the  race  to 
a  night  of  degradation  and  horror  infinitely  more  appalling 
than  a  return  to  primeval  barbarism." 

"Even  my  brief  sojourn  in  America  has  taught  me  the 
demoralizing  tendency  of  the  doctrine  of  'equality  of  races 
and  of  sexes,'  and  you  must  admit,  Miss  Earl,  that  your 
countrywomen  are  growing  dangerously  learned,"  answered 
Sir  Roger,  smiling. 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,  that  it  is  rather  the  quality  than  the 
quantity  of  their  learning  that  makes  them  troublesome. 
One  of  your  own  noble  seers  has  most  gracefully  declared: 
'A  woman  may  always  help  her  husband,'  (or  race,)  'by 
what  she  knows,  however  little;  by  what  she  half  knows  or 
misknows,  she  will  only  tease  him.' ': 

Sir  Roger  bowed,  and  Mr.  Manning  said : 

"Very  'true,  good,  and  beautiful,'  as  a  mere  theory  in 
sociology,  but  in  an  age  when  those  hideous  hermaphro 
dites,  ycleped  'strong-minded  women,'  are  becoming  so 
alarmingly  numerous,  our  eyes  are  rarely  gladdened  by  a 
conjunction  of  highly  cultivated  intellects ;  notable,  loving 
hearts ;  tender,  womanly  sensibilities.  Can  you  shoulder  the 
onus  probandi?" 


342 


ST.  ELMO. 


"Sir,  that  rests  with  those  who  assert  that  learning  ren 
ders  women  disagreeable  and  unfeminine ;  the  burden  of 
proof  remains  for  you." 

"Permit  me  to  lift  the  weight  for  you,  Manning,  by  ask 
ing  Miss  Earl  what  she  thinks  of  the  comparative  merits 
of  the  'Princess/  and  of  'Aurora  Leigh,'  as  correctives  of 
the  tendency  she  deprecates?" 

Hitherto  the  discussion  had  been  confined  to  the  trio, 
while  the  conversation  was  general,  but  now  silence  reigned 
around  the  table,  and  when  the  Englishman's  questions 
forced  Edna  to  look  up,  she  saw  all  eyes  turned  upon  her ; 
and  embarrassment  flushed  her  face,  and  her  lashes  drooped 
as  she  answered : 

"It  has  often  been  asserted  by  those  who  claim  proficiency 
in  the  analysis  of  character,  that  women  are  the  most  in 
fallible  judges  of  womanly,  and  men  of  manly  natures;  but 
I  am  afraid  that  the  poems  referred  to  would  veto  this  de 
cision.  While  I  yield  to  no  human  being  in  admiration  of, 
and  loving  gratitude  to  Mrs.  Browning,  and  regard  the  first 
eight  books  of  'Aurora  Leigh'  as  vigorous,  grand  and  mar 
vellously  beautiful,  I  can  not  deny  that  a  painful  feeling  of 
mortification  seizes  me  when  I  read  the  ninth  and  conclud 
ing  book,  wherein  'Aurora,'  with  most  unwomanly  vehem 
ence,  voluntarily  declares  and  reiterates  her  love  for  'Rom- 
ney.'  Tennyson's  'Princess'  seems  to  me  more  feminine  and 
refined  and  lovely  than  'Aurora' ;  and  it  is  because  I  love 
and  revere  Mrs.  Browning,  and  consider  her  not  only  the 
pride  of  her  own  sex,  but  an  ornament  to  the  world,  that  I 
find  it  difficult  to  forgive  the  unwomanly  inconsistency  into 
which  she  betrays  her  heroine.  Allow  me  to  say  that  in  my 
humble  opinion  nothing  in  the  whole  range  of  literature  so 
fully  portrays  a  perfect  woman  as  that  noble  sketch  by 
Wordsworth,  and  the  inimitable  description  in  Rogers's 
'Human  Life.' " 

"The  first  is,  I  presume,  familiar  to  all  of  us,  but  the 
last,  I  confess,  escapes  my  memory.  Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  repeat  it?"  said  the  editor,  knitting  his  brows 
slightly. 

"Excuse  me,  sir;  it  is  too  long  to  be  quoted  here,  and  it 
seems  that  I  have  already  monopolized  the  conversation 
much  longer  than  I  expected  or  desired.  Moreover,  to 


ST.  ELMO. 


343 


quote  Rogers  to  an  Englishman  would  be  equivalent  to 
'carrying  coal  to  Newcastle/  or  peddling  'owls  in  Athens.'  " 

Sir  Roger  smiled  as  he  said: 

"Indeed,  Miss  Earl,  while  you  spoke,  I  was  earnestly 
ransacking  my  memory  for  the  passage  to  which  you  allude ; 
but  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  it  is  as  fruitless  an  effort  as  'call 
ing  spirits  from  the  vasty  deep.'  Pray  be  so  kind  as  to  re 
peat  it  for  me." 

At  that  instant  little  Hattie  crept  softly  to  the  back  of 
Edna's  chair,  and  whispered: 

"Bro'  Felix  says,  won't  you  please  come  back  soon,  and 
finish  that  story  where  you  left  off  reading  last  night?" 

Very  glad  to  possess  so  good  an  excuse,  the  governess 
rose  at  once;  but  Mrs.  Andrews  said: 

"Wait,  Miss  Earl.    What  do  you  want,  Hattie?" 

"Bro'  Felix  wants  Miss  Earl,  and  sent  me  to  beg  her  to 
come." 

"Go  back  and  tell  him  he  is  in  a  hopeless  minority,  and 
that  in  this  country  the  majority  rule.  There  are  fifteen 
here  who  want  to  talk  to  Miss  Earl,  and  he  can't  have  her 
in  the  schoolroom  just  now,"  said  Grey  Chilton,  slyly  pelt 
ing  his  niece  with  almonds. 

"But  Felix  is  really  sick  to-day,  and  if  Mrs.  Andrews 
will  excuse  me,  I  prefer  to  go." 

She  looked  imploringly  at  the  lady  of  the  house,  who 
said  nothing;  and  Sir  Roger  beckoned  Hattie  to  him,  and 
exclaimed : 

"Pray,  may  I  inquire,  Mrs.  Andrews,  why  your  children 
do  not  make  their  appearance?  I  am  sure  you  need  not 
fear  a  repetition  of  the  sarcastic  rebuke  of  that  wit  who, 
when  dining  at  a  house  where  the  children  were  noisy  and 
unruly,  lifted  his  glass,  bowed  to  the  troublesome  little  ones, 
and  drank  to  the  memory  of  King  Herod.  I  am  very  cer 
tain  'the  murder  of  the  innocents'  would  never  be  recalled 
here,  unless — forgive  me,  Miss  Earl!  but  from  the  sparkle 
in  your  eyes,  I  believe  you  anticipate  me.  Do  you  really 
know  what  I  am  about  to  say?" 

"I  think,  sir,  I  can  guess." 

"Let  me  see  whether  you  are  a  clairvoyant !" 

"On  one  occasion  when  a  sign  for  a  children's  school  was 
needed,  and  the  lady  teacher  applied  to  Lamb  to  suggest  a 


344 


ST.  ELMO. 


design,  he  meekly  advised  that  of  'The  Murder  of  the  In 
nocents.'  Thank  you,  sir.  However,  I  am  not  surprised 
that  you  entertain  such  flattering  opinions  of  a  profession 
which  in  England  boasts  'Squeers'  as  its  national  type  and 
representative." 

The  young  man  laughed  good-humoredly,  and  answered : 

"For  the  honor  of  my  worthy  pedagogical  countrymen, 
permit  me  to  assure  you  that  the  aforesaid  'Squeers'  is 
simply  one  of  Dickens's  inimitable  caricatures." 

"Nevertheless  I  have  somewhere  seen  the  statement  that 
when  'Nicholas  Nickleby'  first  made  its  appearance,  only 
six  irate  schoolmasters  went  immediately  to  London  to 
thrash  the  author;  each  believing  that  he  recognized  his 
own  features  in  the  amiable  portrait  of  'Squeers.' ' 

She  bowed  and  turned  from  the  table,  but  Mrs.  An 
drews  exclaimed: 

"Before  you  go,  repeat  that  passage  from  Rogers;  then 
we  will  excuse  you." 

With  one  hand  clasping  Hattie's,  and  the  other  resting 
on  the  back  of  her  chair,  Edna  fixed  her  eyes  on  Mrs.  An- 
drews's  face,  and  gave  the  quotation. 

"  His  house  she  enters,  there  to  be  a  light 
Shining  within  when  all  without  is  night; 
A  guardian  angel  o'er  his  life  presiding, 
Doubling  his  pleasures  and  his  cares  dividing; 
Winning  him  back,  when  mingling  in  the  throng 
From  a  vain  world  we  love,  alas !  too  long, 
To  fireside  happiness  and  hours  of  ease, 
Blest  with  that  charm,  the  certainty  to  please. 
How  oft  her  eyes  read  his !  her  gentle  mind 
To  all  his  wishes,  all  his  thoughts  inclined; 
Still  subject — ever  on  the  watch  to  borrow 
Mirth  of  his  mirth,  and  sorrow  of  his  sorrow." 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

FLOWERY  as  Sicilian  meads  was  the  parsonage  garden 
on  that  quiet  afternoon  late  in  May,  when  Mr.  Hammond 
closed  the  honeysuckle-crowned  gate,  crossed  the  street, 
and  walked  slowly  into  the  church-yard,  down  the  sacred 
streets  of  the  silent  city  of  the  dead,  and  entered  the  en 
closure  where  slept  his  white-robed  household  band. 

The  air  was  thick  with  perfume,  as  if  some  strong,  daring 
south  wind  had  blown  wide  the  mystic  doors  of  Astarte's 
huge  laboratory,  and  overturned  the  myriad  alembics,  and 
deluged  the  world  with  her  fragrant  and  subtle  distilla 
tions. 

Honey-burdened  bees  hummed  their  hymns  to  labor,  as 
they  swung  to  and  fro;  and  numbers  of  Psyche-symbols, 
golden  butterflies,  floated  dreamily  in  and  around  and  over 
the  tombs,  now  and  then  poising  on  velvet  wings,  as  if 
waiting,  listening  for  the  clarion  voice  of  Gabriel,  to  rouse 
and  reanimate  the  slumbering  bodies  beneath  the  gleam 
ing  slabs.  Canary-colored  orioles  flitted  in  and  out  of  the 
trailing  willows,  a  redbird  perched  on  the  brow  of  a  sculp 
tured  angel  guarding  a  child's  grave,  and  poured  his  sad, 
sweet,  monotonous  notes  on  the  spicy  air;  two  purple  pig 
eons,  with  rainbow  necklaces,  cooed  and  fluttered  up  and 
down  from  the  church  belfry,  and  close  under  the  project 
ing  roof  of  the  granite  vault,  a  pair  of  meek  brown  wrens 
were  building  their  nest  and  twittering  softly  one  to  an' 
other. 

The  pastor  cut  down  the  rank  grass  and  fringy  ferns,  the 
flaunting  weeds  and  coreopsis  that  threatened  to  choke  his 
more  delicate  flowers,  and,  stooping,  tied  up  the  crimson 
pinks,  and  wound  the  tendrils  of  the  blue-veined  clematis 
around  its  slender  trellis,  and  straightened  the  white  petu 
nias  and  the  orange-tinted  crocaes,  which  the  last  heavy 
shower  had  beaten  to  the  ground. 

The  small,  gray  vault  was  overrun  with  ivy,  whose  dark, 

[345] 


346  ST.  ELMO. 

polished  leaves  threatened  to  encroach  on  a  plain  slab  of 
pure  marble  that  stood  very  near  it;  and  as  the  minister 
pruned  away  the  wreaths,  his  eyes  rested  on  the  black 
letters  in  the  centre  of  the  slab:  "Murray  Hammond. 
Aged  21." 

Elsewhere  the  sunshine  streamed  warm  and  bright  over 
the  graves,  but  here  the  rays  were  intercepted  by  the  church, 
and  its  cool  shadow  rested  over  vault  and  slab  and  flowers. 

The  old  man  was  weary  from  stooping  so  long,  and  now 
he  took  off  his  hat  and  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead, 
and  sighed  as  he  leaned  against  the  door  of  the  vault,  where 
fine,  fairy-fingered  mosses  were  weaving  their  green  ara 
besque  immortelles. 

In  a  mournfully  measured,  yet  tranquil  tone,  he  said 
aloud : 

"Ah!  truly  throughout  all  the  years  of  my  life  I  have 
never  heard  the  promise  of  perfect  love,  without  seeing 
aloft  amongst  the  stars,  fingers  as  of  a  man's  hand,  writing 
the  sacred  legend:  'Ashes  to  ashes!  dust  to  dust!' '' 

Age  was  bending  his  body  toward  the  earth  with  which 
it  was  soon  to  mingle;  the  ripe  and  perfect  wheat  nodded 
lower  and  lower  day  by  day,  as  the  Angel  of  the  Sickle 
delayed;  but  his  noble  face  wore  that  blessed  and  marvel 
lous  calm,  that  unearthly  peace  which  generally  comes  some 
hours  after  death,  when  all  traces  of  temporal  passions  and 
woes  are  lost  in  eternity's  repose. 

A  low,  wailing  symphony  throbbed  through  the  church, 
where  the  organist  was  practising;  and  then  out  of  the 
windows,  and  far  away  on  the  evening  air,  rolled  the 
solemn  waves  of  that  matchlessly  mournful  Requiem  which, 
under  prophetic  shadows,  Mozart  began  on  earth  and  fin 
ished,  perhaps  in  heaven,  on  one  of  those  golden  harps 
whose  apocalyptic  ringing  smote  St.  John's  eager  ears 
among  the  lonely  rocks  of  yEgean-girdled  Patmos.  The 
sun  had  paused  as  if  to  listen  on  the  wooded  crest  of  a  dis 
tant  hill,  but  as  the  Requiem  ended  and  the  organ  sobbed 
itself  to  rest,  he  gathered  up  his  burning  rays  and  disap 
peared;  and  the  spotted  butterflies,  like  "winged  tulips," 
flitted  silently  away,  and  the  evening  breeze  bowed  the 
large  yellow  primroses,  and  fluttered  the  phlox ;  the  red 
nasturtiums  that  climbed  up  at  the  foot  of  the  slab  shud- 


ST.  ELMO. 


347 


dered  and  shook  their  blood-colored  banners  over  the  pol 
ished  marble.  A  holy  hush  fell  upon  all  things  save  a 
towering  poplar  that  leaned  against  the  church,  and  rustled 
its  leaves  ceaselessly,  and  shivered  and  turned  white,  as 
tradition  avers  it  has  done  since  that  day,  when  Christ  stag 
gered  along  the  Via  Dolorosa  bearing  his  cross,  carved  out 
of  poplar  wood. 

Leaning  with  his  hands  folded  on  the  handle  of  the  weed 
ing  hoe,  his  gray  beard  sweeping  over  his  bosom,  his  bare, 
silvered  head  bowed,  and  his  mild,  peaceful  blue  eyes  rest 
ing  on  his  son's  tomb,  Mr.  Hammond  stood  listening  to  the 
music;  and  when  the  strains  ceased,  his  thoughts  travelled 
onward  and  upward  till  they  crossed  the  sea  of  crystal  be 
fore  the  Throne,  and  in  imagination  he  heard  the  song  of 
the  four  and  twenty  elders. 

From  this  brief  reverie  some  slight  sound  aroused  him, 
anl  lifting  his  eyes,  he  saw  a  man  clad  in  white  linen  gar 
ments,  wearing  oxalis  clusters  in  his  coat,  standing  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  monumental  slab. 

"St.  Elmo !  my  poor,  suffering  wanderer !  Oh,  St.  Elmo ! 
come  to  me  once  more  before  I  die !" 

The  old  man's  voice  was  husky,  and  his  arms  trembled 
as  he  stretched  them  across  the  grave  that  intervened. 

Mr.  Murray  looked  into  the  tender,  tearful,  pleading 
countenance,  and  the  sorrow  that  seized  his  own,  making 
his  features  writhe,  beggars  language.  He  instinctively 
put  out  his  arms,  then  drew  them  back,  and  hid  his  face 
in  his  hands ;  saying  in  low,  broken,  almost  inaudible  tones : 

"I  am  too  unworthy.  Dripping  with  the  blood  of  your 
children,  I  dare  not  touch  you." 

The  pastor  tottered  around  the  tomb,  and  stood  at  Mr. 
Murray's  side,  and  the  next  moment  the  old  man's  arms 
were  clasped  around  the  tall  form,  and  his  white  hair  fell 
on  his  pupil's  shoulder. 

"God  be  praised !  After  twenty  years'  separation  I  hold 
you  once  more  to  the  heart  that,  even  in  its  hours  of  deepest 
sorrow,  has  never  ceased  to  love  you !  St.  Elmo ! " 

He  wept  aloud,  and  strained  the  prodigal  convulsively  to 
his  breast. 

After  a  moment  Mr.  Murray's  lips  moved,  twitched ;  and 


348  ST.  ELMO. 

with  a  groan  that  shook  his  powerful  frame  from  head  to 
foot,  he  asked: 

"Will  you  ever,  ever  forgive  me?" 

"God  is  my  witness  that  I  freely  and  fully  forgave  you 
many,  many  years  ago !  The  dearest  hope  of  my  lonely 
life  has  been  that  I  might  tell  you  so,  and  make  you  realize 
how  ceaselessly  my  prayers  and  my  love  have  followed  you 
in  all  your  dreary  wanderings.  Oh!  I  thank  God  that,  at 
last !  at  last  you  have  come  to  me,  my  dear,  dear  boy !  My 
poor,  proud  prodigal !" 

A  magnificent  jubilate  swelled  triumphantly  through 
church  and  churchyard,  as  if  the  organist  up  in  the  gallery 
knew  what  was  happening  at  Murray  Hammond's  grave ; 
and  when  the  thrilling  music  died  away  St.  Elmo  broke 
from  the  encircling  arms,  and  knelt  with  his  face  shrouded 
in  his  hands  and  pressed  against  the  marble  that  covered 
his  victim. 

After  a  little  while  the  pastor  sat  down  on  the  edge  of 
the  slab,  and  laid  his  shrunken  fingers  softly  and  caress 
ingly  upon  the  bowed  head. 

"Do  not  dwell  upon  a  past  that  is  fraught  only  with  bit 
terness  to  you,  and  from  which  you  can  draw  no  balm. 
Throw  your  painful  memories  behind  you,  and  turn  reso 
lutely  to  a  future  which  may  be  rendered  noble  and  useful 
and  holy.  There  is  truth,  precious  truth  in  George  Her 
bert's  words : 

'  For  all  may  have, 
If  they  dare  choose,  a  glorious  life  or  grave! ' 

and  the  years  to  come  may,  by  the  grace  of  God,  more  than 
cancel  those  that  have  gone  by." 

"What  have  I  to  hope  for — in  time  of  eternity?  Oh! 
none  but  Almighty  God  can  ever  know  the  dreary  blackness 
and  wretchedness  of  my  despairing  soul!  the  keen  sleepless 
pain  of  my  remorse !  my  utter  loathing  of  my  accursed,  dis 
torted  nature!" 

"And  His  pitying  eyes  see  all,  and  Christ  stretches  out 
his  hands  to  lift  you  up  to  Himself,  and  His  own  words  of 
loving  sympathy  and  pardon  are  spoken  again  to  you: 
'Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest.'  Throw  all  your  galling  load  of  memories 


ST.  ELMO.  349 

down  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  'the  peace  that  passeth 
all  understanding'  shall  enter  your  sorrowing  soul,  and 
abide  there  for  ever.  St.  Elmo,  only  prayer  could  have 
sustained  and  soothed  me  since  we  parted  that  bright  sum 
mer  morning  twenty  long,  long  years  ago.  Prayer  took 
away  the  sting  and  sanctified  my  sorrows  for  the  good  of 
my  soul;  and,  my  dear,  dear  boy,  it  will  extract  the  poison 
and  the  bitterness  from  yours.  That  God  answers  prayer 
and  comforts  the  afflicted  among  men,  I  am  a  living  attesta 
tion.  It  is  by  His  grace  only  that  'I  am  what  I  am' ;  erring 
and  unworthy  I  humbly  own,  but  patient  at  least,  and  fully 
resigned  to  His  will.  The  only  remaining  cause  of  disquiet 
passed  away  just  now,  when  I  saw  that  you  had  come 
back  to  me.  St.  Elmo,  do  you  ever  pray  for  yourself?" 

"For  some  weeks  I  have  been  trying  to  pray,  but  my 
words  seem  a  mockery;  they  do  not  rise,  they  fall  back 
hissing  upon  my  heart.  I  have  injured  and  insulted  you ; 
I  have  cursed  you  and  yours,  have  robbed  you  of  your 
peace  of  mind,  have  murdered  your  children " 

"Hush !  hush !  we  will  not  disinter  the  dead.  My  peace 
of  mind  you  have  to-day  given  back  to  me;  and  the  hope 
of  your  salvation  is  dearer  to  me  than  the  remembered 
faces  of  my  darlings,  sleeping  here  beside  us.  Oh,  St. 
Elmo,  I  have  prayed  for  you  as  I  never  prayed  even  for 
my  own  Murray ;  and  I  know,  I  feel  that  all  my  wrestling 
before  the  Throne  of  Grace  has  not  been  in  vain.  Some 
times  my  faith  grew  faint,  and  as  the  years  dragged  on 
and  I  saw  no  melting  of  your  haughty,  bitter  spirit,  I 
almost  lost  hope ;  but  I  did  not,  thank  God,  I  did  not !  I 
held  on  to  the  precious  promise,  and  prayed  more  frequently, 
and,  blessed  be  his  holy  name!  at  last,  just  before  I  go 
hence,  the  answer  comes.  As  I  see  you  kneeling  here  at 
my  Murray's  grave,  I  know  now  that  your  soul  is  snatched 
'as  a  brand  from  the  burning!'  Oh!  bless  my  merciful 
God,  that  in  that  day  when  we  stand  for  final  judgment,  and 
your  precious  soul  is  required  at  my  son's  hands,  the  joyful 
cry  of  the  recording  angel  shall  be,  'Saved!  saved!  for  ever 
and  ever,  through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb !' ' 

Overwhelmed  with  emotion,  the  pastor  dropped  his  white 
head  on  his  bosom;  and  once  more  silence  fell  over  the 
darkening  cemetery. 


350  ST.  ELMO. 

One  by  one  the  birds  hushed  their  twitter  and  went  to 
rest,  and  only  the  soft  cooing  of  the  pigeons  floated  down 
now  and  then  from  the  lofty  belfry. 

On  the  eastern  horizon  a  thin,  fleecy  scarf  of  clouds  was 
silvered  by  the  rising  moon,  the  west  was  a  huge  shrine  of 
beryl  whereon  burned  ruby  flakes  of  vapor,  watched  by  a 
solitary  vestal  star;  and  the  sapphire  arch  overhead  was 
beautiful  and  mellow  as  any  that  ever  vaulted  above  the 
sculptured  marbles  of  Pisan  Campo  Santo. 

Mr.  Murray  rose  and  stood  with  his  head  uncovered  and 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  nobbing  nasturtiums  that  glowed  like 
blood-spots. 

"Mr.  Hammond,  your  magnanimity  unmans  me;  and  if 
your  words  be  true,  I  feel  in  your  presence  like  a  leper  and 
should  lay  my  lips  in  the  dust,  crying,  'Unclean !  unclean !' 
For  all  that  I  have  inflicted  on  you,  I  have  neither  apology 
nor  defence  to  offer;  and  I  could  much  better  have  borne 
curses  from  you  than  words  of  sympathy  and  affection. 
You  amaze  me,  for  I  hate  and  scorn  myself  so  thoroughly, 
that  I  marvel  at  the  interest  you  still  indulge  for  me ;  I  can 
not  understand  how  you  can  endure  the  sight  of  my  feat 
ures,  the  sound  of  my  voice.  Oh!  if  I  could  atone!  If  I 
could  give  Annie  back  to  your  arms,  there  is  no  suffering, 
no  torture  that  I  would  not  gladly  embrace!  No  penance 
of  body  or  soul  from  which  I  would  shrink!" 

"My  dear  boy,  (for  such  you  still  seem  to  me,  notwith 
standing  the  lapse  of  time,)  let  my  little  darling  rest  with 
her  God.  She  went  down -early  to  her  long  home,  and 
though  I  missed  her  sweet  laugh,  and  her  soft,  tender  hands 
about  my  face,  and  have  felt  a  chill  silence  in  my  house, 
where  music  once  was,  she  has  been  spared  much  suffering 
and  many  trials;  and  I  would  not  recall  her  if  I  could,  for 
after  a  few  more  days  I  shall  gather  her  back  to  my  bosom 
in  that  eternal  land  where  the  blighting  dew  of  death  never 
falls;  where 

'Adieus  and  farewells  are  a  sound  unknown.' 

Atone?  Ah,  St.  Elmo!  you  can  atone.  Save  your  soul, 
redeem  your  life,  and  I  shall  die  blessing  your  name.  Look 
at  me  in  my  loneliness  and  infirmity.  I  am  childless;  you 


ST.  ELMO.  351 

took  my  idols  from  me,  long,  long  ago;  you  left  my  heart 
desolate;  and  now  I  have  a  right  to  turn  to  you,  to  stretch 
out  my  feeble,  empty  arms,  and  say,  Come,  be  my  child, 
fill  my  son's  place,  let  me  lean  upon  you  in  my  old  age,  as 
I  once  fondly  dreamed  I  should  lean  on  my  own  Murray ! 
St.  Elmo,  will  you  come?  Will  you  give  me  your  heart, 
my  son!  my  son!" 

He  put  out  his  trembling  hands,  and  a  yearning  tender 
ness  shone  in  his  eyes  as  he  raised  them  to  the  tall,  stern 
man  before  him. 

Mr.  Murray  bent  eagerly  forward,  and  looked  wonder- 
ingly  at  him. 

"Do  you,  can  you  mean  it?  It  appears  so  impossible,  and 
I  have  been  so  long  sceptical  of  all  nobility  in  my  race. 
Will  you  indeed  shelter  Murray's  murderer  in  your  gen 
erous,  loving  heart?" 

"I  call  my  God  to  witness,  that  it  has  been  my  dearest 
hope  for  dreary  years  that  I  might  win  your  heart  back 
before  I  die." 

"It  is  but  a  wreck,  a  hideous  ruin,  black  with  sins ;  but 
such  as  I  am,  my  future,  my  all,  I  lay  at  your  feet!  If  there 
is  any  efficacy  in  bitter  repentance  and  remorse ;  if  there  is 
any  mercy  left  in  my  Maker's  hands;  if  there  be  saving 
power  in  human  will,  I  will  atone!  I  will  atone!" 

The  strong  man  trembled  like  a  wave-lashed  reed,  as  he 
sank  on  one  knee  at  the  minister's  feet,  and  buried  his  face 
in  his  arms ;  and  spreading  his  palms  over  the  drooped 
head,  Mr.  Hammond  gently  and  solemnly  blessed  him. 

For  some  time  both  were  silent,  and  then  Mr.  Murray 
stretched  out  one  arm  over  the  slab,  and  said  brokenly : 

"Kneeling  here  at  Murray's  tomb,  a  strange,  incompre 
hensible  feeling  creeps  into  my  heart.  The  fierce,  burning 
hate  I  have  borne  him  seems  to  have  passed  away;  and 
something,  ah!  something,  mournfully  like  the  old  yearning 
toward  him,  comes  back,  as  I  look  at  his  name.  Oh,  idol 
of  my  youth!  hurled  down  and  crushed  by  my  own  savage 
hands!  For  the  first  time  since  I  destroyed  him,  since  I 
saw  his  handsome  face  whitening  in  death,  I  think  of  him 
kindly.  For  the  first  time  since  that  night,  I  feel  that — 
that — I  can  forgive  him.  Murray!  Murray!  you  wronged 
me!  you  wrecked  me!  but  oh!  if  I  could  give  you  back  the 


352 


ST.  ELMO. 


life  I  took  in  ray  madness!  how  joyfully  would  I  forgive 
you  all  my  injuries!  His  blood  dyes  my  hands,  my  heart, 
my  soul!" 

"The  blood  of  Jesus  will  wash  out  those  stains.  The  law 
was  fully  satisfied  when  He  hung  on  Calvary ;  there,  ample 
atonement  was  made  for  just  such  sins  as  yours,  and  you 
have  only  to  claim  and  plead  his  sufferings  to  secure  your 
salvation.  St.  Elmo,  bury  your  past  here,  in  Murray's 
grave,  and  give  all  your  thoughts  to  the  future.  Half  of 
your  life  has  ebbed  out,  and  yet  your  life-work  remains 
undone,  untouched.  You  have  no  time  to  spend  in  looking 
over  your  unimproved  years." 

"  'Bury  my  past !'  Impossible,  even  for  one  hour.  I  tell 
you  I  am  chained  to  it,  as  the  Aloides  were  chained  to  the 
pillars  of  Tartarus!  and  the  croaking  fiend  that  will  not 
let  me  sleep  in  memory !  Memory  of  sins  that — that  av-enge 
your  wrongs,  old  man !  that  goad  me  sometimes  to  the  very 
verge  of  suicide !  Do  you  know,  ha !  how  could  you  pos 
sibly  know?  Shall  I  tell  you  that  only  one  thought  has 
often  stood  between  me  and  self-destruction?  It  was  not 
the  fear  of  death,  no,  no,  no!  It  was  not  even  the  dread 
of  facing  an  outraged  God !  but  it  was  the  horrible  fear  of 
meeting  Murray!  Not  all  eternity  was  wide  enough  to 
hold  us  both!  The  hate  I  bore  him  made  me  shrink  from 
a  deed  which  I  felt  would  instantly  set  us  face  to  face  once 
more  in  the  land  of  souls.  Ah!  a  change  has  come  over 
me ;  now  if  I  could  see  his  face,  I  might  learn  to  forget  that 
look  it  wore  when  last  I  gazed  upon  it.  Time  bears  healing 
for  some  natures ;  to  mine  it  has  brought  only  poison.  It 
is  useless  to  bid  me  forget.  Memory  is  earth's  retribution 
for  man's  sins.  I  have  bought  at  a  terrible  price  my  convic 
tion  of  the  melancholy  truth,  that  he  who  touches  the 
weapons  of  Nemesis  effectually  slaughters  his  own  peace  of 
mind,  and  challenges  her  maledictions,  from  which  there  is 
no  escape.  In  my  insanity  I  said,  'Vengeance  is  mine!  I 
will  repay!'  and  in  the  hour  when  I  daringly  grasped  the 
prerogative  of  God,  His  curse  smote  me!  Mr.  Hammond, 
friend  of  my  happy  youth,  guide  of  my  innocent  boyhood! 
if  you  could  know  all  the  depths  of  my  abasement,  you 
would  pity  me  indeed!  My  miserable  heart  is  like  the 
crater  of  some  extinct  volcano:  the  flames  of  sin  have 


ST.  ELMO.  353 

burned  out,  and  left  it  rugged,  rent,  blackened.    I  do  not 

think  that " 

"St.  Elmo,  do  not  upbraid  yourself  so  bitterly " 

"Sir,  your  words  are  kind  and  noble  and  full  of  Chris 
tian  charity ;  they  are  well  meant,  and  I  thank  you ;  but  they 
cannot  comfort  me.  My  desolation,  my  utter  wretchedness 
isolate  me  from  the  sympathy  of  my  race,  whom  I  have 
despised  and  trampled  so  relentlessly.  Yesterday  I  read  a 
passage  which  depicts  so  accurately  my  dreary  isolation, 
that  I  have  been  unable  to  expel  it;  I  find  it  creeping  even 
now  to  my  lips: 

" '  O  misery  and  mourning !     I  have  felt — 
Yes,  I  have  felt  like  some  deserted  world 
That  God  hath  done  with,  and  had  cast  aside 
To  rock  and  stagger  through  the  gulfs  of  space, 
He  never  looking  on  it  any  more; 
Untilled,  no  use,  no  pleasure,  not  desired, 
Nor  lighted  on  by  angels  in  their  flight 
From  heaven  to  happier  planets ;  and  the  race 
That  once  hath  dwelt  on  it  withdrawn  or  dead. 
Could  such  a  world  have  hope  that  some  blest  day 
God  would  remember  her,  and  fashion  her 
Anew?'" 

"Yes,  my  dear  St.  Elmo,  so  surely  as  God  reigns  above 
us,  He  will  refashion  it,  and  make  the  light  of  His  pardon 
ing  love  and  the  refreshing  dew  of  his  grace  fall  upon  it! 
And  the  waste  places  shall  bloom  as  Sharon,  and  the  pur 
pling  vineyards  shame  Engedi,  and  the  lilies  of  peace  shall 
lift  up  their  stately  heads,  and  the  'voice  of  the  turtle  shall 
be  heard  in  the  land!'  Have  faith,  grapple  yourself  by 
prayer  to  the  feet  of  God,  and  he  will  gird,  and  lift  up,  and 
guide  you." 

Mr.  Murray  shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  the  moon 
light  shining  on  his  face  showed  it  colorless,  haggard,  hope 
less. 

The  pastor  rose,  put  on  his  hat,  and  took  St.  Elmo's 
arm. 

"Come  home  with  me.  This  spot  is  fraught  with  painful 
associations  that  open  afresh  all  your  wounds." 

They  walked  on  together  until  they  reached  the  parson 
age  gate,  and  as  the  minister  raised  the  latch,  his  com- 


354 


ST.  ELMO. 


panion  gently  disengaged  the  arm  clasped  to  the  old  man's 
side. 

"Not  to-night.    After  a  few  days  I  will  try  to  come." 

"St.  Elmo,  to-morrow  is  Sunday,  and " 

He  paused,  and  did  not  speak  the  request  that  looked  out 
from  his  eyes. 

It  cost  Mr.  Murray  a  severe  struggle,  and  he  did  not 
answer  immediately.  When  he  spoke  his  voice  was  un 
steady. 

"Yes,  I  know  what  you  wish.  Once  I  swore  I  would  tear 
the  church  down,  scatter  its  dust  to  the  winds,  leave  not  a 
stone  to  mark  the  site!  But  I  will  come  and  hear  you 
preach  for  the  first  time  since  that  sunny  Sabbath,  twenty 
years  dead,  when  your  text  was,  'Cast  thy  bread  upon  the 
waters;  for  thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days'  Sodden, 
and  bitter,  and  worthless  from  the  long  tossing  in  the  great 
deep  of  sin,  it  drifts  back  at  last  to  your  feet;  and  instead 
of  stooping  tenderly  to  gather  up  the  useless  fragments,  I 
wonder  that  you  do  not  spurn  the  stranded  ruin  from  you. 
Yes,  I  will  come." 

"Thank  God !  Oh !  what  a  weight  you  have  lifted  from 
my  heart!  St.  Elmo,  my  son!" 

There  was  a  long,  lingering  clasp  of  hands,  and  the  pas 
tor  went  into  his  home  with  tears  of  joy  on  his  furrowed 
face,  while  his  smiling  lips  whispered  to  his  grateful  soul : 

"In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  and  in  the  evening  with 
hold  not  thy  hand;  for  thou  knowest  not  whether  shall 
prosper,  either  this  or  that,  or  whether  they  both  shall  be 
alike  good." 

Mr.  Murray  watched  the  stooping  form  until  it  disap 
peared,  and  then  went  slowly  back  to  the  silent  burying 
ground,  and  sat  down  on  the  steps  of  the  church. 

Hour  after  hour  passed  and  still  he  sat  there,  almost  as 
motionless  as  one  of  the  monuments,  while  his  eyes  dwelt 
as  if  spellbound,  on  the  dark,  dull  stain  where  Annie  Ham 
mond  had  rested,  in  days  long,  long  past;  and  Remorse, 
more  powerful  than  Erictho,  evoked  from  the  charnel  house 
the  sweet  girlish  features  and  fairy  figure  of  the  early 
dead. 

His  pale  face  was  propped  on  his  hand,  and  there  in  the 


ST.  ELMO. 


355 


silent  watches  of  the  moon-lighted  midnight,  he  held  com 
munion  with  God  and  his  own  darkened  spirit 

"  What  hast  thou  wrought  for  Right  and  Truth 

For  God  and  man, 

From  the  golden  hours  of  bright-eyed  youth, 
To  life's  mid-span?" 

His  almost  Satanic  pride  was  laid  low  as  the  dead  in  their 
mouldering  shrouds,  and  all  the  giant  strength  of  his  per 
verted  nature  was  gathered  up  and  hurled  in  a  new  direc 
tion.  The  Dead  Sea  Past  moaned  and  swelled,  and  bitter 
waves  surged  and  broke  over  his  heart,  but  he  silently  buf 
feted  them ;  and  the  moon  rode  in  mid-heaven  when  he  rose, 
went  around  the  church,  and  knelt  and  prayed,  with  his 
forehead  pressed  to  the  marble  that  covered  Murray  Ham 
mond's  last  resting-place. 

"  Oh !  that  the  mist  which  veileth  my  To  Come 
Would  so  dissolve  and  yield  unto  mine  eyes 
A  worthy  path !    I'd  count  not  wearisome 
Long  toil  nor  enterprise, 

But  strain  to  reach  it;  ay,  with  wrestlings  stout 
Is  there  such  a  path  already  made  to  fit 
The  measure  of  my  foot?    It  shall  atone 
For  much,  if  I  at  length  may  light  on  it 
And  know  it  for  mine  own." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

"On !  how  grand  and  beautiful  it  is !  Whenever  I  look 
at  it,  I  feel  exactly  as  I  did  on  Easter-Sunday  when  I  went 
to  the  cathedral  to  hear  the  music.  It  is  a  solemn  feeling,  as 
if  I  were  in  a  holy  place.  Miss  Earl,  what  makes  me 
feel  so?" 

Felix  stood  in  an  art  gallery,  and  leaning  on  his  crutches 
looked  up  at  Church's  "Heart  of  the  Andes." 

"You  are  impressed  by  the  solemnity  and  the  holy  repose 
of  nature;  for  here  you  look  upon  a  pictured  cathedral, 
built  not  by  mortal  hands,  but  by  the  architect  of  the  uni 
verse.  Felix,  does  it  not  recall  to  your  mind  something  of 
which  we  often  speak?" 

The  boy  was  silent  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  his  thin, 
sallow  face  brightened. 

"Yes,  indeed !  You  mean  that  splendid  description  which 
you  read  to  me  from  'Modern  Painters'  ?  How  fond  you  are 
of  that  passage,  and  how  very  often  you  think  of  it!  Let 
me  see  whether  I  can  remember  it." 

Slowly  but  accurately  he  repeated  the  eloquent  tribute 
to  "Mountain  Glory,"  from  the  fourth  volume  of  "Modern 
Painters." 

"Felix,  you  know  that  a  celebrated  English  poet,  Keats, 
has  said,  'A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever' ;  and  as  I  can 
never  hope  to  express  my  ideas  in  half  such  beautiful  lan 
guage  as  Mr.  Ruskin  uses,  it  is  an  economy  of  trouble  to 
quote  his  words.  Some  of  his  expressions  are  like  certain 
songs  which,  the  more  frequently  we  sing  them,  the  more 
valuable  and  eloquent  they  become ;  and  as  we  rarely  learn 
a  fine  piece  of  music  to  be  played  once  or  twice  and  then 
thrown  aside,  why  should  we  not  be  allowed  the  same  privi 
lege  with  verbal  melodies?  Last  week  you  asked  me  to 
explain  to  you  what  is  meant  by  'aerial  perspective/  and  if 
you  will  study  the  atmosphere  in  this  great  picture,  Mr. 

[356] 


ST.  ELMO.  357 

Church  will  explain  it  much  more  clearly  to  you  than  I 
was  able  to  do." 

"Yes,  Miss  Earl,  I  see  it  now.  The  eye  could  travel  up 
and  up,  and  on  and  on,  and  never  get  out  of  the  sky;  and 
it  seems  to  me  those  birds  yonder  would  fly  entirely  away, 
out  of  sight,  through  that  air  in  the  picture.  But,  Miss 
Earl,  do  you  really  believe  that  the  Chimborazo  in  South 
America  is  as  grand  as  Mr.  Church's?  I  do  not,  because  I 
have  noticed  that  pictures  are  much  handsomer  than  the 
real  things  they  stand  for.  Mamma  carried  me  last  spring 
to  see  some  paintings  of  scenes  on  the  Hudson  River,  and 
when  we  went  travelling  in  the  summer,  I  saw  the  very  spot 
where  the  artist  stood  when  he  sketched  the  hills  and  the 
bend  of  the  river,  and  it  was  not  half  so  pretty  as  the  picture. 
And  yet  I  know  God  is  the  greatest  painter.  Is  it  the  far-off 
look  that  everything  wears  when  painted. 

''Yes,  the  'far-off  look,'  as  you  call  it,  is  one  cause  of  the 
effect  you  wish  to  understand ;  and  it  has  been  rather  more 
elegantly  expressed  by  Campbell,  in  the  line : 

'  'Tis  distance  lends  c  ichantment  to  the  view.' 

I  have  seen  this  fact  exemplified  in  a  very  singular  manner, 
at  a  house  in  Georgia,  where  I  was  once  visiting.  From 
the  front  door  I  had  a  very  fine  prospect  or  view  of  lofty 
hills,  and  a  dense  forest,  and  a  pretty  little  town  where  the 
steeples  of  the  churches  glittered  in  the  sunshine,  and  I 
stood  for  some  time  admiring  the  landscape ;  but  presently, 
when  I  turned  to  speak  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  I  saw,  in 
the  glass  sidelights  of  the  door,  a  miniature  reflection  of  the 
very  same  scene  that  was  much  more  beautiful.  I  was 
puzzled,  and  could  not  comprehend  how  the  mere  fact  of 
diminishing  the  size  of  the  various  objects,  by  increasing 
the  distance,  could  enhance  their  loveliness ;  and  I  asked  my 
self  whether  all  far-off  things  were  handsomer  than  those 
close  at  hand?  In  my  perplexity  I  went  as  usual  to  Mr. 
Ruskin,  wondering  whether  he  had  ever  noticed  the  same 
thing;  and  of  course  he  had,  and  has  a  noble  passage  about 
it  in  one  of  his  books  on  architecture.  I  will  see  if  my 
memory  appreciates  it  as  it  deserves:  'Are  not  all  natural 
things,  it  may  be  asked,  as  lovely  near  as  far  away?  Nay, 


358  ST.  ELMO. 

not  so.  Look  at  the  clouds,  and  watch  the  delicate  sculpture 
of  their  alabaster  sides  and  the  rounded  lustre  of  their 
magnificent  rolling.  They  are  meant  to  be  beheld  far 
away;  they  were  shaped  for  this  place,  high  above  your 
head ;  approach  them,  and  they  fuse  into  vague  mists,  or 
whirl  away  in  fierce  fragments  of  thunderous  vapors/ 
(And  here,  Felix,  your  question  about  Chimborazo  is  an 
swered.)  'Look  at  the  crest  of  the  Alps,  from  the  far 
away  plains  over  which  its  light  is  cast,  whence  human 
souls  have  communion  with  it  by  their  myriads.  The  child 
looks  up  to  it  in  the  dawn,  and  the  husbandman  in  the  bur 
den  and  heat  of  the  day,  and  the  old  man  in  the  going  down 
of  the  sun,  and  it  is  to  them  all  as  the  celestial  city  on  the 
world's  horizon ;  dyed  with  the  depths  of  heaven  and  clothed 
with  the  calm  of  eternity.  There  was  it  set  for  holy  do 
minion  by  Him  who  marked  for  the  sun  his  journey,  and 
bade  the  moon  know  her  going  down.  It  was  built  for  its 
place  in  the  far-off  sky;  approach  it,  and  the  glory  of  its 
aspect  fades  into  blanched  fearfulness;  its  purple  walls  are 
rent  into  grisly  rocks,  its  silver  fretwork  saddened  into 
wasting  snow ;  the  stormbrands  of  ages  are  on  its  breast, 
the  ashes  of  its  own  ruin  lie  solemnly  on  its  white  raiment!' 
Felix,  in  rambling  about  the  fields,  you  will  frequently  be 
reminded  of  this.  I  have  noticed  that  the  meadow  in  the 
distance  is  always  greener  and  more  velvety,  and  seems 
more  thickly  stuoded  with  flowers,  than  the  one  I  am  cross 
ing;  or  the  hillside  far  away  has  a  golden  gleam  on  its 
rocky  slopes,  and  the  shadow  spots  are  softer  and  cooler 
and  more  purple  than  those  I  am  climbing  and  panting 
over;  and  I  have  hurried  on,  and  after  a  little,  turning  to 
look  back,  lo !  all  the  glory  I  saw  beckoning  me  on  has 
flown,  and  settled  over  the  meadow  and  the  hillside  that  I 
have  passed,  and  the  halo  is  behind!  Perfect  beauty  in 
scenery  is  like  the  mirage  that  you  read  about  yesterday ;  it 
fades  and  flits  out  of  your  grasp,  as  you  travel  toward  it. 
When  we  go  home  I  will  read  you  something  which  Emer 
son  has  said  concerning  this  same  lovely  ignis  fatnus;  for 
I  can  remember  only  a  few  words :  'What  splendid  dis 
tance,  what  recesses  of  ineffable  pomp  and  loveliness  in  the 
sunset!  But  who  can  go  where  they  are,  or  lay  his  hand, 
or  plant  his  foot  thereon?  Off  they  fall  from  the  round 


ST.  ELMO.  359 

world  forever.'  Felix,  I  suppose  it  is  because  we  see  all 
the  imperfections  and  inequalities  of  objects  close  at  hand, 
but  the  fairy  film  of  air  like  a  silvery  mist  hides  these  when 
at  a  distance;  and  we  are  charmed  with  the  heightened 
beauties,  which  alone  are  visible." 

Edna's  eyes  went  back  to  the  painting,  and  rested  there; 
and  little  Hattie,  who  had  been  gazing  up  at  her  governess 
in  curious  perplexity,  pulled  her  brother's  sleeve  and  said: 

"Bro'  Felix,  do  you  understand  all  that?  I  guess  I  don't; 
for  I  know  when  I  am  hungry  (and  seems  to  me  I  always 
am)  ;  why,  when  I  am  hungry  the  closer  I  get  to  my  dinner 
the  nicer  it  looks!  And  then  there  was  that  hateful,  spiteful 
old  Miss  Abby  Tompkins,  that  mamma  would  have  to  teach 
you !  Ugh !  I  have  watched  her  many  a  time  coming  up 
the  street,  (you  know  she  never  would  ride  in  stages  for 
fear  of  pickpockets,)  and  she  always  looked  just  as  ugly 
as  far  off  as  I  could  see  her  as  when  she  came  close  to 


me- 


A  hearty  laugh  cut  short  Hattie's  observation ;  and,  com 
ing  forward,  Sir  Roger  Percival  put  his  hand  on  her  head, 
saying : 

"How  often  children  tumble  down  'the  step  from  the 
sublime  to  the  ridiculous,'  and  drag  staid,  dignified  folks 
after  them?  Miss  Earl,  I  have  been  watching  your  little 
party  for  some  time,  listening  to  your  incipient  art-lecture. 
You  Americans  are  queer  people;  and  when  I  go  home  I 
shall  tell  Mr.  Ruskin  that  I  heard  a  little  boy  criticizing 
'The  Heart  of  the  Andes/  and  quoting  from  'Modern 
Painters.'  Felix,  as  I  wish  to  be  accurate,  will  you  tell  me 
your  age?" 

The  poor  sensitive  cripple  imagined  that  he  was  being 
ridiculed,  and  he  only  reddened  and  frowned  and  bit  his 
thin  lips. 

Edna  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  answered  for 
him. 

"Just  thirteen  years  old :  and  though  Mr.  Ruskin  is  a 
distinguished  exception  to  the  rule  that  'prophets  are  not 
without  honor,  save  in  their  own  country/  I  think  he  has  no 
reader  who  loves  and  admires  his  writings  more  than  Felix 
Andrews." 

Here  the  boy  raised  his  eyes  and  asked : 


360  ST.  ELMO. 

"Why  is  it  that  prophets  have  no  honor  among  their  own 
people?  Is  it  because  they  too  have  to  be  seen  from  a 
great  distance  in  order  to  seem  grand?  I  heard  mamma 
say  the  other  day  that  if  some  book  written  in  America  had 
only  come  from  England  everybody  would  be  raving 
about  it." 

"Some  other  time,  Felix,  we  will  talk  of  that  problem. 
Hattie,  you  look  sleepy." 

"I  think  it  will  be  lunch  time  before  we  get  home,"  re 
plied  the  yawning  child. 

Sir  Roger  took  her  by  her  shoulders,  and  shook  her  gently, 
saying : 

"Come,  wake  up,  little  sweetheart!  How  can  you  get 
sleepy  or  hungry  with  all  these  handsome  pictures  staring  at 
you  from  the  walls?" 

The  good-natured  child  laughed ;  but  her  brother,  who 
had  an  unconquerable  aversion  to  Sir  Roger's  huge  whis 
kers,  curled  his  lips,  and  exclaimed  scornfully: 

"Hattie,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself!  Hungry, 

indeed!  You  are  almost  as  bad  as  that  English  lady , 

who,  when  her  husband  was  admiring  some  beautiful  lambs, 
and  called  her  attention  to  them,  answered,  'Yes,  lambs  are 
beautiful— bo  lied  I'  " 

Desirous  of  conciliating  him,  Sir  Roger  replied : 

"When  you  and  Hattie  come  to  see  me  in  England,  I 
will  show  you  the  most  beautiful  lambs  in  the  United  King 
dom;  and  your  sister  shall  have  boiled  lamb  three  times  a 
day,  if  she  wishes  it.  Miss  Earl,  you  are  so  fond  of  paint 
ings  that  you  would  enjoy  a  European  tour  more  than  any 
lady  whom  I  have  met  in  this  country.  I  have  seen  miles 
of  canvas  in  Boston,  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  but  very 
few  good  pictures." 

"And  yet,  sir,  when  on  exhibition  in  Europe  this  great 
work  here  before  us  received  most  extravagant  praise  from 
transatlantic  critics,  who  are  very  loath  to  accord  merit  to 
American  artists.  If  I  am  ever  so  fortunate  as  to  be  able 
to  visit  Europe,  and  cultivate  and  improve  my  taste,  I  think 
I  shall  still  be  very  proud  of  the  names  of  Allston,  West, 
Church,  Bierstadt,  Kensett  and  Gifford." 

She  turned  to  quit  the  gallery,  and  Sir  Roger  said : 

"I  leave  to-morrow  for  Canada,  and  may  possibly  sail  for 


ST.  ELMO.  361 

England  without  returning  to  New  York.  Will  you  allow 
me  the  pleasure  of  driving  you  to  the  park  this  afternoon? 
Two  months  ago  you  refused  a  similar  request,  but  since 
then  I  flatter  myself  we  have  become  better  friends." 

"Thank  you,  Sir  Roger.  I  presume  the  children  can  spare 
me,  and  I  will  go  with  pleasure." 

"I  will  call  at  five  o'clock." 

He  handed  her  and  Hattie  into  the  coupe,  tenderly  as 
sisted  Felix,  and  saw  them  driven  away. 

Presently  Felix  laughed,  and  exclaimed: 

"Oh !  I  hope  Miss  Morton  will  be  in  the  park  this  evening. 
It  would  be  glorious  fun  to  see  her  meet  you  and  Sir 
Roger." 

"Why,  Felix?" 

"Oh!  because  she  meddles.  I  heard  Uncle  Grey  tell 
mamma  that  she  was  making  desperate  efforts  to  catch  tha 
Englishman ;  and  that  she  turned  up  her  nose  tremendously 
at  the  idea  of  his  visiting  you.  When  Uncle  Grey  told  her 
how  often  he  came  to  our  house,  she  bit  her  lips  almost  till 
the  blood  spouted.  Sir  Roger  drives  very  fine  horses,  uncle 
says,  and  Miss  Morton  hints  outrageously  for  him  to  ask 
her  to  ride,  but  she  can't  manage  to  get  the  invitation.  So 
she  will  be  furious  when  she  sees  you  this  afternoon.  Yon 
der  is  Goupil's;  let  us  stop  and  have  a  look  at  those  new 
engravings  mamma  told  us  about  yesterday.  Hattie,  you 
can  curl  up  in  your  corner,  and  go  to  sleep  and  dream  of 
boiled  lamb  till  we  come  back." 

Later  in  the  day  Mrs.  Andrews  went  up  to  Edna's  room, 
and  found  her  correcting  an  exercise. 

"At  work  as  usual.  You  are  incorrigible.  Any  other 
woman  would  be  so  charmed  with  her  conquest  that  her 
head  would  be  quite  turned  by  a  certain  pair  of  brown  eyes 
that  are  considered  irresistible.  Come,  get  ready  for  your 
drive ;  it  is  almost  five  o'clock,  and  you  know  foreigners  are 
too  polite,  too  thoroughly  well-bred  not  to  be  punctual. 
No,  no,  Miss  Earl ;  not  that  hat,  on  the  peril  of  your  life ! 
Where  is  that  new  one  that  I  ordered  sent  up  to  you  two 
days  ago?  It  will  match  this  delicate  white  shawl  of  mine, 
which  I  brought  up  for  you  to  wear ;  and  come,  no  scruples 
if  you  please!  Stand  up  and  let  me  see  whether  its  folds 
hang  properly.  You  should  have  heard  Madame  De  G 


362  ST.  ELMO. 

when  she  put  it  around  my  shoulders  for  the  first  time, 
'Juste  del!  Madame  Andrews,  you  are  a  Greek  statue!' 
Miss  Earl,  put  your  hair  back  a  little  from  the  left  temple. 
There,  now  the  veins  show !  Where  are  your  gloves  ?  You 
look  charmingly,  my  dear;  only  too  pale,  too  pale!  If  you 
don't  contrive  to  get  up  some  color,  people  will  swear  that 
Sir  Roger  was  airing  the  ghost  of  a  pretty  girl.  There  is 
the  bell !  Just  as  I  told  you,  he  is  punctual.  Five  o'clock  to 
a  minute." 

She  stepped  to  the  window  and  looked  down  at  the  equip 
age  before  the  door. 

"What  superb  horses!  You  will  be  the  envy  of  the 
city." 

There  was  something  in  the  appearance  and  manner  of 
Sir  Roger  which  often  reminded  Edna  of  Gordon  Leigh; 
and  during  the  spring  he  visited  her  so  constantly,  sent  her 
so  frequently  baskets  of  elegant  flowers,  that  he  succeeded 
in  overcoming  her  reticence,  and  established  himself  on  an 
exceedingly  friendly  footing  in  Mrs.  Andrews's  house. 

Now,  as  they  drove  along  the  avenue  and  entered  the 
park,  their  spirits  rose;  and  Sir  Roger  turned  very  often 
to  look  at  the  fair  face  of  his  companion,  which  he  found 
more  and  more  attractive  each  day.  He  saw,  too,  that 
under  his  earnest  gaze  the  faint  color  deepened,  until  her 
cheeks  glowed  like  sea-shells ;  and  when  he  spoke  he  bent 
his  face  much  nearer  to  hers  than  was  necessary  to  make 
her  hear  his  words.  They  talked  of  books,  flowers,  music, 
mountain  scenery,  and  the  green  lanes  of  "Merry  England." 
Edna  was  perfectly  at  ease,  and  in  a  mood  to  enjoy  every 
thing. 

They  dashed  on,  and  the  sunlight  disappeared,  and  the 
gas  glittered  all  over  the  city  before  Sir  Roger  turned  his 
horses'  heads  homeward.  When  they  reached  Mrs.  An 
drews's  door  he  dismissed  his  carriage  and  spent  the  even 
ing.  At  eleven  o'clock  he  rose  to  say  good-bye. 

"Miss  Earl,  I  hope  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  renewing 
our  acquaintance  at  an  early  day;  if  not  in  America  in 
Europe.  The  brightest  reminiscences  I  shall  carry  across 
the  ocean  are  those  that  cluster  about  the  hours  I  have  spent 
with  you.  If  I  should  not  return  to  New  York,  will  you 
allow  me  the  privilege  of  hearing  from  you  occasionally?" 


ST.  ELMO.  363 

His  clasp  of  the  girl's  hand  was  close,  but  she  withdrew 
it,  and  her  face  flushed  painfully  as  she  answered : 

"Will  you  excuse  me,  Sir  Roger,  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
am  so  constantly  occupied  I  have  not  time  to  write,  even  to 
my  old  and  dearest  friends." 

Passing  the  door  of  Felix's  room,  on  her  way  to  her  own 
apartment,  to  boy  called  to  her:  "Miss  Earl,  are  you  very 
tired?" 

"Oh,  no.    Do  you  want  anything?" 

"My  head  aches  and  I  can't  go  to  sleep.  Please  read  to 
me  a  little  while." 

He  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  looked  up  fondly  at 
her. 

"Ah!  how  very  pretty  you  are  to-night!  Kiss  me,  won't 
you?" 

She  stooped  and  kissed  the  poor  parched  lips,  and  as  she 
opened  a  volume  of  the  Waverly  Novels,  he  said: 

"Did  you  see  Miss  Morton?" 

"Yes ;  she  was  on  horseback,  and  we  passed  her  twice." 

"Glad  of  it!  She  does  not  like  you.  I  guess  she  finds  it 
as  hard  to  get  to  sleep  to-night  as  I  do." 

Edna  commenced  reading,  and  it  was  nearly  an  hour  be 
fore  Felix's  eyes  closed,  and  his  fingers  relaxed  their  grasp 
on  hers.  Softly  she  put  the  book  back  on  the  shelf,  extin 
guished  the  light,  and  stole  upstairs  to  her  desk.  That 
night,  as  Sir  Roger  tossed  restlessly  on  his  pillow,  thinking 
of  her,  recalling  all  that  she  had  said  during  the  drive,  he 
would  not  have  been  either  comforted  or  flattered  by  a 
knowledge  of  the  fact  that  she  was  so  entirely  engrossed 
by  her  MS.  that  she  had  no  thought  of  him  or  his  impending 
departure. 

When  the  clock  struck  three  she  laid  down  her  pen :  and 
the  mournful  expression  that  crept  into  her  eyes  told  that 
memory  was  busy  with  the  past  years.  When  she  fell  asleep 
she  dreamed  not  of  Sir  Roger  but  of  Le  Bocage  and  its 
master,  of  whom  she  would  not  permit  herself  to  think  in 
her  waking  hours. 

The  influence  which  Mr.  Manning  exerted  over  Edna  in 
creased  as  their  acquaintance  ripened ;  and  the  admiring- 
reverence  with  which  she  regarded  the  editor  was  exceed 
ingly  flattering  to  him.  With  curious  interest  he  watched 


364  ST.  ELMO. 

the  expansion  of  her  mind,  and  now  and  then  warned  her 
of  some  error  into  which  she  seemed  inclined  to  plunge,  or 
wisely  advised  some  new  branch  of  research. 

So  firm  was  her  confidence  in  his  nature  and  dispassionate 
judgment,  that  she  yielded  to  his  opinions  a  deferential 
homage,  such  as  she  had  scarcely  paid  even  to  Mr.  Ham 
mond. 

Gradually  and  unconsciously  she  learned  to  lean  upon  his 
strong,  clear  mind,  and  to  find  in  his  society  a  quiet  but 
very  precious  happiness.  The  antagonism  of  their  char 
acters  was  doubtless  one  cause  of  the  attraction  which  each 
found  in  the  other,  and  furnished  the  balance-wheel  which 
both  required. 

Edna's  intense  and  dreamy  idealism  demanded  a  check, 
which  the  positivism  of  the  editor  supplied ;  and  his  exten 
sive  and  rigidly  accurate  information,  on  almost  all  scien 
tific  topics,  constituted  a  valuable  treasury  of  knowledge  to 
which  he  never  denied  her  access. 

His  faith  in  Christianity  was  like  his  conviction  of  the 
truth  of  mathematics,  more  an  intellectual  process  and  the 
careful  deduction  of  logic  than  the  result  of  some  emo 
tional  impulse ;  his  religion  like  his  dialectics  was  cold,  con 
sistent,  irreproachable,  unanswerable.  Never  seeking  a  con 
troversy  on  any  subject,  he  never  shunned  one,  and,  during 
its  continuance,  his  demeanor  was  invariably  courteous,  but 
unyielding,  and  even  when  severe  he  was  rarely  bitter. 

Very  early  in  life  his  intellectual  seemed  to  have  swal 
lowed  up  his  emotional  nature,  as  Aaron's  rod  did  those  of 
the  magicians  of  Pharaoh,  and  only  the  absence  of  dog 
matism,  and  the  habitual  suavity  of  his  manner,  atoned  for 
his  unbending  obstinacy  on  all  points. 

Edna's  fervid  and  beautiful  enthusiasm  surged  and 
chafed  and  broke  over  this  man's  stern,  flinty  realism,  like 
the  warm,  blue  waters  of  the  Gulf  Stream  that  throw  their 
silvery  spray  and  foam  against  the  glittering  walls  of  sap 
phire  icebergs  sailing  slowly  southward.  Her  glowing  im 
agery  fell  upon  the  bristling  points  of  his  close  phalanx  of 
arguments,  as  gorgeous  tropical  garlands  caught  and  em 
paled  by  bayonets  until  they  faded. 

Merciless  as  an  anatomical  lecturer,  he  would  smilingly 
take  up  one  of  her  metaphors  and  dissect  it,  and  over  the 


ST.  ELMO.  365 

pages  of  her  MSS.  for  "Maga"  his  gravely  spoken  criticisms 
fell  withering  as  hoar  frost. 

They  differed  in  all  respects,  yet  daily  they  felt  the  need 
of  each  other's  society.  The  frozen  man  of  forty  sunned 
himself  in  the  genial  presence  of  the  lovely  girl  of  nine 
teen,  and  in  the  dawn  of  her  literary  career  she  felt  a  sense 
of  security  from  his  proffered  guidance,  even  as  a  way 
ward  and  ambitious  child,  just  learning  to  walk,  totters 
along  with  less  apprehension  when  the  strong,  steady  hand 
it  refuses  to  hold  is  yet  near  enough  to  catch  and  save  from 
a  serious  fall. 

While  fearlessly  attacking  all  heresy,  whether  political, 
scientific,  or  ethical,  all  latitudinarianism  in  manners  and 
sciolism  in  letters,  he  commanded  the  confidence  and  esteem 
of  all,  and  became  in  great  degree  the  centre  around  which 
the  savants  and  literati  of  the  city  revolved. 

Through  his  influence  Edna  made  the  acquaintance  of 
some  of  the  most  eminent  scholars  and  artists  who  formed 
this  clique,  and  she  found  that  his  friendship  and  recom 
mendation  was  an  "open  sesame"  to  the  charmed  circle. 

One  Saturday  she  sat  with  her  bonnet  on,  waiting  for  Mr. 
Manning,  who  had  promised  to  accompany  her  on  her  first 
visit  to  Greenwood,  and,  as  she  put  on  her  gloves,  Felix 
handed  her  a  letter  which  his  father  had  just  brought  up. 

Recognizing  Mrs.  Murray's  writing,  the  governess 
read  it  immediately,  and,  while  her  eyes  ran  over  the  sheet, 
an  expression,  first  of  painful,  then  of  joyful,  surprise,  came 
into  her  countenance. 

"Mv  DEAR  CHILD  :  Doubtless  you  will  be  amazed  to  hear 
that  your  quondam  lover  has  utterly  driven  your  image 
from  his  fickle  heart ;  and  that  he  ignores  y*our  existence  as 
completely  as  if  you  were  buried  twenty  feet  in  the  ruins 
of  Herculaneum.  Last  night  Gordon  Leigh  was  married 
to  Gertrude  Powell,  and  the  happy  pair,  attended  by  that 
despicable  mother,  Agnes  Powell,  will  set  out  for  Europe 
early  next  week.  My  dear,  it  is  growing  fashionable  to 
'marry  for  spite.'  I  have  seen  two  instances  recently,  and 
know  of  a  third  which  u'ill  take  place  ere  long.  Poor  Gor 
don  will  rue  his  rashness,  and,  before  the  year  expires,  he 
will  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  he  is  an  unmitigated  fool, 
and  has  simply  performed,  with  great  success,  an  operation 


366  ST.  ELMO. 

familiarly  known  as  cutting  off  one's  nose  to  spite  one's 
face!  Your  rejection  of  his  renewed  offer  piqued  him  be 
yond  expression,  and  when  he  returned  from  New  York  he 
was  in  exactly  the  most  accommodating  frame  of  mind 
which  Mrs.  Powell  could  desire.  She  immediately  laid 
siege  to  him.  Gertrude's  undisguised  preference  for  his 
society  was  extremely  soothing  to  his  vanity,  which  you  had 
so  severely  wounded,  and  in  fine,  the  indefatigable  manoeu 
vres  of  the  wily  mamma,  and  the  continual  flattery  of  the 
girl,  who  is  really  very  pretty,  accomplished  the  result.  I 
once  credited  Gordon  with  more  sense  than  he  has  mani 
fested,  but  each  year  convinces  me  more  firmly  of  the  truth 
of  my  belief,  that  no  man  is  proof  against  the  subtle  and 
persistent  flattery  of  a  beautiiul  woman.  When  he  an 
nounced  his  engagement  to  me,  we  were  sitting  in  the 
library,  and  I  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  and  answered : 
'Indeed!  Engaged  to  Miss  Powell?  I  thought  you  swore 
that  so  long  as  Edna  Earl  remained  unmarried  you  would 
never  relinquish  your  suit?'  He  pointed  to  that  lovely 
statuette  of  Pallas  that  stands  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  said 
bitterly,  'Edna  Earl  has  no  more  heart  than  that  marble 
Athena.'  Whereupon  I  replied,  'Take  care,  Gordon.  I 
notice  that  of  late  you  seem  inclined  to  deal  rather  too  freely 
in  hyperbole.  Edna's  heart  may  resemble  the  rich  veins  of 
gold,  which  in  some  mines  run  not  near  the  surface  but  deep 
in  the  masses  of  quartz.  Because  you  can  not  obtain  it,  you 
have  no  right  to  declare  that  it  does  not  exist.  You  will  prob 
ably  live  to  hear  some  more  fortunate  suitor  shout  Eureka! 
over  the  treasure.'  He  turned  pale  as  the  Pallas  and  put  his 
hand  over  his  face.  Then  I  said,  'Gordon,  my  young  friend, 
I  have  always  been  deeply  interested  in  your  happiness; 
tell  me  frankly,  do  you  love  this  girl  Gertrude?'  He 
seemed  much  embarrassed,  but  finally  made  his  confes 
sion:  'Mrs.  Murray,  I  believe  I  shall  be  fond  of  her  after 
a  while.  She  is  very  lovely,  and  deeply,  deeply  attached  to 
me,  (vanity  you  see,  Edna,)  and  I  am  grateful  for  her  affec 
tion.  She  will  brighten  my  lonely  home,  and  at  least  I  can 
be  proud  of  her  rare  beauty.  But  I  never  expect  to  love 
any  woman  as  I  loved  Edna  Earl.  I  can  pet  Gertrude;  I 
should  have  worshipped  my  first  love,  my  proud,  gifted, 
peerless  Edna!  Oh!  she  will  never  realize  all  she  threw 


ST.  ELMO.  367 

away  when  she  coldly  dismissed  me.'  Poor  Gordon !  Well, 
he  is  married;  but  his  bride  might  have  found  cause  of  dis 
quiet  in  his  restless,  abstracted  manner  on  the  evening  of  his 
wedding.  What  do  you  suppose  was  St.  Elmo's  criticism 
on  this  matrimonial  mismatch ?  'Poor  devil!  Before  a  year 
rolls  over  his  head  he  will  feel  like  plunging  into  the  Atlan 
tic,  with  Plymouth  Rock  for  a  necklace !  Leigh  deserves  a 
better  fate,  and  I  would  rather  see  him  tied  to  wild  horses 
and  dragged  across  the  Andes.'  These  pique  marriages  are 
terrible  mistakes ;  so,  my  dear,  I  trust  you  will  duly  repent 
of  your  cruelty  to  poor  Gordon." 

As  Edna  put  the  letter  in  her  pocket,  she  wondered 
whether  Gertrude  really  loved  her  husband,  or  whether 
chagrin  at  Mr.  Murray's  heartless  desertion  had  not  goaded 
the  girl  to  accept  Mr.  Leigh. 

"Perhaps  after  all,  Mr.  Murray  was  correct  in  his  esti 
mate  of  her  character,  when  he  said  that  she  was  a  mere 
child,  and  was  capable  of  no  very  earnest  affection.  I  hope 
so — I  hope  so." 

Edna  sighed  as  she  tried  to  assure  herself  of  the  proba 
bility  that  the  newly  married  pair  would  become  more  at 
tached  as  time  passed;  and  her  thoughts  returned  to  that 
paragraph  in  Mrs.  Murray's  letter  which  seemed  intention 
ally  mysterious :  "I  know  of  a  third  instance  which  will 
take  place  ere  long." 

Did  she  allude  to  her  son  and  her  niece  ?  Edna  could  not 
believe  this  possible,  and  shook  her  head  at  the  suggestion ; 
but  her  lips  grew  cold,  and  her  fingers  locked  each  other  as 
in  a  clasp  of  steel. 

When  Mr.  Manning  called,  and  assisted  her  into  the  car 
riage,  he  observed  an  unusual  preoccupancy  of  mind ;  but 
after  a  few  desultory  remarks  she  rallied,  gave  him  her 
undivided  attention,  and  seemed  engrossed  by  his  conver 
sation. 

It  was  a  fine,  sunny  day,  bright  but  cool,  with  a  fresh  and 
stiffening  west  wind  ripping  the  waters  of  the  harbor. 

The  week  had  been  one  of  unusual  trial,  for  Felix  was 
sick,  and  even  more  than  ordinarily  fretful  and  exacting; 
and  weary  of  writing  and  of  teaching  so  constantly,  the 
governess  enjoyed  the  brief  season  of  emancipation. 


368  ST.  ELMO. 

Mr.  Manning's  long  residence  in  the  city  had  familiar 
ized  him  with  the  beauties  of  Greenwood,  and  the  history 
of  many  who  slept  dreamlessly  in  the  costly  mausoleums 
which  they  paused  to  examine  and  admire;  and  when  at 
last  he  directed  the  driver  to  return,  Edna  sank  back  in  one 
corner  of  the  carriage  and  said:  "Some  morning  I  will 
come  with  the  children  and  spend  the  entire  day." 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and  her  thoughts  travelled  swiftly 
to  that  pure  white  obelisk  standing  in  the  shadow  of  Look 
out;  and  melancholy  memories  brought  a  sigh  to  her  lips 
and  a  slight  cloud  to  the  face  that  for  two  hours  past  had 
been  singularly  bright  and  animated.  The  silence  had  lasted 
some  minutes,  when  Mr.  Manning,  who  was  gazing  ab 
stractedly  out  of  the  window,  turned  to  his  companion  and 
said: 

"You  look  pale  and  badly  to-day." 

"I  have  not  felt  as  strong  as  usual,  and  it  is  a  great  treat 
to  get  away  from  the  schoolroom  and  out  into  the  open  air, 
which  is  bracing  and  delightful.  I  believe  I  have  enjoyed 
this  outing  more  than  any  I  have  taken  since  I  came  North ; 
and  you  must  allow  me  to  tell  you  how  earnestly  I  thank 
you  for  your  considerate  remembrance  of  me." 

"Miss  Earl,  what  I  am  about  to  say  will  perhaps  seem 
premature,  and  will  doubtless  surprise  you;  but  I  beg  you 
to  believe  that  it  is  the  result  of  mature  deliberation " 

He  paused  and  looked  earnestly  at  her. 

"You  certainly  have  not  decided  to  give  up  the  editorship 
of  'Maga,'  as  you  spoke  of  doing  last  winter.  It  would  not 
survive  your  desertion  six  months." 

"My  allusion  was  to  yourself,  not  to  the  magazine,  which 
I  presume  I  shall  edit  as  long  as  I  live.  Miss  Earl,  this 
state  of  affairs  cannot  continue.  You  have  no  regard  for 
your  health,  which  is  suffering  materially,  and  you  are  de 
stroying  yourself.  You  must  let  me  take  care  of  you,  and 
save  you  from  the  ceaseless  toil  in  which  you  are  rapidly 
wearing  out  your  life.  To  teach,  as  you  do,  all  day,  and 
then  sit  up  nearly  all  night  to  write,  would  exhaust  a  consti 
tution  of  steel  or  brass.  You  are  probably  not  aware  of  the 
great  change  which  has  taken  place  in  your  appearance  dur 
ing  the  last  three  months.  Hitherto  circumstances  may  have 
left  you  no  alternative;  but  one  is  now  offered  you.  My 
property  is  sufficient  to  render  you  comfortable.  I  have 


ST.  ELMO.  369 

already  purchased  a  pleasant  home,  to  which  I  shall  remove 
next  week,  and  I  want  you  to  share  it  with  me — to  share  my 
future — all  that  I  have.  You  have  known  me  scarcely  a 
year,  but  you  are  not  a  stranger  to  my  character  or  position, 
and  I  think  that  you  repose  implicit  confidence  in  me.  Not 
withstanding  the  unfortunate  disparity  in  our  years,  I  believe 
we  are  becoming  mutually  dependent  on  each  other,  and  in 
your  society  I  find  a  charm  such  as  no  other  human  being 
possesses;  though  I  have  no  right  to  expect  that  a  girl  of 
your  age  can  derive  equal  pleasure  from  the  companion 
ship  of  a  man  old  enough  to  be  her  father.  I  am  not  demon 
strative,  but  my  feelings  are  warm  and  deep;  and  however 
incredulous  you  may  be,  I  assure  you  that  you  are  the 
first,  the  only  woman  I  have  ever  asked  to  be  my  wife.  I 
have  known  many  who  were  handsome  and  intellectual, 
whose  society  I  have  really  enjoyed,  but  not  one  until  I 
met  you  whom  I  would  have  married.  To  you  alone  am  I 
willing  to  entrust  the  education  of  my  little  Lila.  She  was 
but  six  months  old  when  we  were  wrecked  off  Barnegat, 
and,  in  attempting  to  save  his  wife,  my  brother  was  lost. 
With  the  child  in  my  arms  I  clung  to  a  spar,  and  finally 
swam  ashore ;  and  since  then,  regarding  her  as  a  sacred 
treasure  committed  to  my  guardianship,  I  have  faithfully 
endeavored  to  supply  her  father's  place.  There  is  a  singular 
magnetism  about  you,  Edna  Earl,  which  makes  me  wish  to 
see  your  face  always  at  my  hearthstone;  and  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life  I  want  to  say  to  the  world,  'This  woman 
wears  my  name,  and  belongs  to  me  for  ever!'  You  are 
inordinately  ambitious;  I  can  lift  you  to  a  position  that  will 
fully  satisfy  you,  and  place  you  above  the  necessity  of  daily 
labor — a  position  of  happiness  and  ease,  where  your  genius 
can  properly  develop  itself.  Can  you  consent  to  be  Douglass 
Manning's  wife?" 

There  was  no  more  tremor  in  his  voice  than  in  the  meas 
ured  beat  of  a  base  drum;  and  in  his  granite  face  not  a 
feature  moved,  not  a  muscle  twitched,  not  a  nerve  quivered. 

So  entirely  unexpected  was  this  proposal  that  Edna  could 
not  utter  a  word.  The  idea  that  he  could  ever  wish  to 
marry  anybody  seemed  incredible,  and  that  he  should  need 
her  society  appeared  utterly  absurd.  For  an  instant  she 


370  ST.  ELMO. 

wondered  if  she  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  soft,  luxurious  cor 
ner  of  the  carriage,  and  dreamed  it  all. 

Completely  bewildered,  she  sat  looking  wonderingly  at 
him. 

"Miss  Earl,  you  do  not  seem  to  comprehend  me,  and  yet 
my  words  are  certainly  very  explicit.  Once  more  I  ask  you, 
can  you  put  your  hand  in  mine  and  be  my  wife?" 

He  laid  one  hand  on  hers,  and  with  the  other  pushed  back 
his  glasses. 

Withdrawing  her  hands,  she  covered  her  face  with  them, 
and  answered  almost  inaudibly: 

"Let  me  think — for  you  astonish  me." 

"Take  a  day,  or  a  week,  if  necessary,  for  consideration, 
and  then  give  me  your  answer." 

Mr.  Manning  leaned  back  in  the  carriage,  folded  his 
hands,  and  looked  quietly  out  of  the  window ;  and  for  a  half 
hour  silence  reigned. 

Brief  but  sharp  was  the  struggle  in  Edna's  heart.  Proba 
bly  no  woman's  literary  vanity  and  ambition  has  ever  been 
more  fully  gratified  than  was  hers,  by  this  most  unexpected 
offer  of  marriage  from  one  whom  she  had  been  taught  to 
regard  as  the  noblest  ornament  of  the  profession  she  had 
selected.  Thinking  of  the  hour  when  she  sat  alone,  shed 
ding  tears  of  mortification  and  bitter  disappointment  over 
his  curt  letter  rejecting  her  MS.,  she  glanced  at  the  stately 
form  beside  her,  the  mysteriously  calm,  commanding  face, 
the  large  white,  finely  moulded  hands,  waiting  to  clasp  hers 
for  all  time,  and  her  triumph  seemed  complete. 

To  rule  the  destiny  of  that  strong  man,  whose  intellect 
was  so  influential  in  the  world  of  letters,  was  a  conquest 
of  which,  until  this  hour,  she  had  never  dreamed ;  and  the 
blacksmith's  darling  was,  after  all,  a  mere  woman,  and  the 
honor  dazzled  her. 

To  one  of  her  peculiar  temperament  wealth  offered  no 
temptation ;  but  Douglass  Manning  had  climbed  to  a  grand 
eminence,  and,  looking  up  at  it,  she  knew  that  any  woman 
might  well  be  proud  to  share  it. 

He  filled  her  ideal,  he  came  fully  up  to  her  lofty  moral 
and  mental  standard.  She  knew  that  his  superior  she  could 
never  hope  to  meet,  and  her  confidence  in  his  integrity  of 
character  was  boundless. 


ST.  ELMO.  371 

She  felt  that  his  society  had  become  necessary  to  her  peace 
of  mind ;  for  only  in  his  presence  was  it  possible  to  forget 
her  past.  Either  she  must  marry  him,  or  live  single,  and 
work  and  die — alone. 

To  a  girl  of  nineteen  the  latter  alternative  seems  more 
appalling  than  to  a  woman  of  thirty,  whose  eyes  have 
grown  strong  in  the  gray,  cold,  sunless  light  of  confirmed 
old-maidenhood;  even  as  the  vision  of  those  who  live  in 
dim  caverns  requires  not  the  lamps  needed  by  new-comers 
fresh  from  the  dazzling  outer  world. 

Edna  was  weary  of  battling  with  precious  memories  of 
that  reckless,  fascinating  cynic  whom,  without  trusting,  she 
had  learned  to  love;  and  she  thought  that,  perhaps,  if  she 
were  the  wife  of  Mr.  Manning,  whom  without  loving  she 
fully  trusted,  it  would  help  her  to  forget  St.  Elmo. 

She  did  not  deceive  herself;  she  knew  that,  despite  her 
struggles  and  stern  interdicts,  she  loved  him  as  she  could 
never  hope  to  love  any  one  else.  Impatiently  she  said  to 
herself : 

"Mr.  Murray  is  as  old  as  Mr.  Manning,  and  in  the  esti 
mation  of  the  public  is  his  inferior.  Oh!  why  can  not  my 
weak,  wayward  heart  follow  my  strong,  clear-eyed  judg 
ment  ?  I  would  give  ten  years  of  my  life  to  love  Mr.  Man 
ning  as  I  love " 

She  compared  a  swarthy,  electrical  face,  scowling  and 
often  repulsively  harsh,  with  one  cloudless  and  noble,  over 
which  brooded  a  solemn  and  perpetual  peace ;  and  she  almost 
groaned  aloud  in  her  chagrin  and  self -contempt,  as  she 
thought,  "Surely,  if  ever  a  woman  was  infatuated — pos 
sessed  by  an  evil  spirit — I  certainly  am." 

In  attempting  to  institute  a  parallel  between  the  two  men, 
one  seemed  serene,  majestic,  and  pure  as  the  vast  snow- 
dome  of  Oraefa,  glittering  in  the  chill  light  of  midsummer- 
midnight  suns;  the  other  fiery,  thunderous,  destructive  as 
Izalco — one  moment  crowned  with  flames  and  lava-lashed — 
the  next  wrapped  in  gloom  and  dust  and  ashes. 

While  she  sat  there  wrestling  as  she  had  never  done  be 
fore,  even  on  that  day  of  trial  in  the  church,  memory,  as  if 
leagued  with  Satan,  brought  up  the  image  of  Mr.  Murray 
as  he  stood  pleading  for  himself,  for  his  future.  She  heard 


372  ST.  ELMO. 

once  more  his  thrilling,  passionate  cry,  "Oh,  my  darling !  my 
darling!  come  to  me!"  And  pressing  her  face  to  the  lin 
ing  of  the  carriage  to  stifle  a  groan,  she  seemed  to  feel 
again  the  close  clasp  of  his  arms,  the  throbbing  of  his  heart 
against  her  cheek,  the  warm,  tender,  lingering  pressure  of 
his  lips  on  hers. 

When  they  had  crossed  the  ferry  and  were  rattling  over 
the  streets  of  New  York,  Edna  took  her  hands  from  her 
eyes ;  and  there  was  a  rigid  paleness  in  her  face  and  a 
mournful  hollo wness  in  her  voice,  as  she  said  almost  sor 
rowfully: 

"No,  Mr.  Manning!  We  do  not  love  each  other,  and  I 
can  never  be  your  wife.  It  is  useless  for  me  to  assure  you 
that  I  am  flattered  by  your  preference;  that  I  am  inex 
pressibly  proud  of  the  distinction  you  have  generously 
offered  to  confer  upon  me.  Sir,  you  can  not  doubt  that  I 
do  most  fully  and  gratefully  appreciate  this  honor,  which 
I  had  neither  the  right  to  expect  nor  the  presumption  to 
dream  of.  My  reverence  and  admiration  are,  I  confess, 
almost  boundless,  but  I  find  not  one  atom  of  love;  and  an 
examination  of  my  feelings  satisfies  me  that  I  could  never 
yield  you  that  homage  of  heart,  that  devoted  affection  which 
God  demands  that  every  wife  should  pay  her  husband.  You 
have  quite  as  little  love  for  me.  We  enjoy  each  other's 
society  because  our  pursuits  are  similar,  our  tastes  con 
genial,  our  aspirations  identical.  In  pleasant  and  profitable 
companionship  we  can  certainly  indulge  as  heretofore,  and 
it  would  greatly  pain  me  to  be  deprived  of  it  in  future ;  but 
this  can  be  ours  without  the  sinful  mockery  of  a  marriage — 
for  such  I  hold  a  loveless  union.  I  feel  that  I  must  have 
your  esteem  and  your  society,  but  your  love  I  neither  desire 
nor  ever  expect  to  possess ;  for  the  sentiments  you  cherish 
for  me  are  precisely  similar  to  those  which  I  entertain 
toward  you.  Mr.  Manning,  we  shall  always  be  firm  friends, 
but  nothing  more." 

An  expression  of  surprise  and  disappointment  drifted 
across,  but  did  not  settle  on  the  editor's  quiet  countenance. 

Turning  to  her,  he  answered  with  grave  gentleness : 

"Judge  your  own  heart,  Edna;  and  accept  my  verdict 
with  reference  to  mine.  Do  you  suppose  that  after  living 


ST.  ELMO.  373 

single  all  these  years  I  would  ultimately  marry  a  woman 
for  whom  I  had  no  affection?  You  spoke  last  week  of  the 
mirror  of  John  Galeazzo  Visconte,  which  showed  his  be 
loved  Correggia  her  own  image ;  and  though  I  am  a  proud 
and  reticent  man,  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  could  you  look 
into  my  heart  you  would  find  it  such  a  mirror.  Permit  me 
to  ask  whether  you  intend  to  accept  the  love  which  I  have 
reason  to  believe  Mr.  Murray  has  offered  you?" 

"Mr.  Manning,  I  never  expect  to  marry  any  one,  for  I 
know  I  shall  never  meet  your  superior,  and  yet  I  can  not 
accept  your  most  flattering  offer.  You  fill  all  my  require 
ments  of  noble,  Christian  manhood;  but  after  to-day  this 
subject  must  not  be  alluded  to." 

"Are  you  not  too  hasty?  Will  you  not  take  more  time 
for  reflection?  Is  your  decision  mature  and  final?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Manning — final,  unchangeable.  But  do  not 
throw  me  from  you !  I  am  very,  very  lonely,  and  you  surely 
will  not  forsake  me?" 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  looked  up  pleadingly 
in  his  face,  and  the  editor  sighed  and  paused  a  moment  be 
fore  he  replied: 

"Edna,  if  under  any  circumstances  you  feel  that  I  can  aid 
or  advise  you,  I  shall  be  exceedingly  glad  to  render  all  the 
assistance  in  my  power.  Rest  assured  I  shall  not  forsake 
you  as  long  as  we  both  shall  live.  Call  upon  me  without 
hesitation,  and  I  will  respond  as  readily  and  promptly  as 
to  the  claims  of  my  little  Lila.  In  my  heart  you  are  asso 
ciated  with  her.  You  must  not  tax  yourself  so  unremit 
tingly,  or  you  will  soon  ruin  your  constitution.  There  is  a 
weariness  in  your  face  and  a  languor  in  your  manner  mourn 
fully  prophetic  of  failing  health.  Either  give  up  your  situ 
ation  as  governess  or  abandon  your  writing.  I  certainly 
recommend  the  former,  as  I  can  not  spare  you  from 
'Maga.' " 

Here  the  carriage  stopped  at  Mrs.  Andrews's  door,  and 
as  he  handed  her  out  Mr.  Manning  said: 

"Edna,  my  friend,  promise  me  that  you  will  not  write 
to-night." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Manning;  I  promise." 

She  did  not  go  to  her  desk ;  but  Felix  was  restless,  fever- 


374 


ST.  ELMO. 


ish,  querulous,  and  it  was  after  midnight  when  she  laid  her 
head  on  her  pillow.  The  milkmen  in  their  noisy  carts  were 
clattering  along  the  streets  next  morning,  before  her  heavy 
eyelids  closed,  and  she  fell  into  a  brief,  troubled  slumber; 
over  which  flitted  a  Fata  Morgana  of  dreams,  where  the 
central  figure  was  always  that  tall  one  whom  she  had  seen 
last  standing  at  the  railroad  station  with  the  rain  dripping 
over  him. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

"LET  thy  abundant  blessing  rest  upon  it,  O  Almighty 
God!  else  indeed  my  labor  will  be  in  vain.  'Paul  planted, 
Apollos  watered,  but  thou  only  can  give  the  increase.'  It  is 
finished ;  look  down  in  mercy,  and  sanctify  it,  and  accept  it." 

The  night  was  almost  spent  when  Edna  laid  down  her 
pen,  and  raised  her  clasped  hands  over  the  MS.,  which  she 
had  just  completed. 

For  many  weary  months  she  had  toiled  to  render  it 
worthy  of  its  noble  theme,  had  spared  neither  time  nor 
severe  trains  of  thought;  by  day  and  by  night  she  had 
searched  and  pondered ;  she  had  prayed  fervently  and  cease 
lessly,  and  worked  arduously,  unflaggingly  to  accomplish 
this  darling  hope  of  her  heart,  to  embody  successfully  this 
ambitious  dream,  and  at  last  the  book  was  finished. 

The  manuscript  was  a  mental  tapestry,  into  which  she  had 
woven  exquisite  shades  of  thought,  and  curious  and  quaint 
devices  and  rich,  glowing  imagery  that  flecked  the  ground 
work  with  purple  and  amber  and  gold. 

But  would  the  design  be  duly  understood  and  appreci 
ated  by  the  great,  busy,  bustling  world,  for  whose  amuse 
ment  and  improvement  she  had  labored  so  assiduously  at 
the  spinning-wheels  of  fancy — the  loom  of  thought?  Would 
her  fellow-creatures  accept  it  in  the  earnest,  loving  spirit  in 
which  it  had  been  manufactured?  Would  they  hang  this 
Gobelin  of  her  brain  along  the  walls  of  memory,  and  turn 
to  it  tenderly,  reading  reverently  its  ciphers  and  its  illumina 
tions  ;  or  would  it  be  rent  and  ridiculed,  and  trampled  under 
foot?  This  book  was  a  shrine  to  which  her  purest  thoughts, 
her  holiest  aspirations  travelled  like  pilgrims,  offering  the 
best  of  which  her  nature  was  capable.  Would  those  for 
whom  she  had  patiently  chiselled  and  built  it  guard  and 
prize  and  keep  it ;  or  smite  and  overturn  and  defile  it  ? 

Looking  down  at  the  mass  of  MS.  now  ready  for  the 
printer,  a  sad,  tender,  yearning  expression  filled  the  author's 

[375] 


376  ST.  ELMO. 

eyes ;  and  her  little  white  hands  passed  caressingly  over  its 
closely- written  pages,  as  a  mother's  soft  fingers  might  lov 
ingly  stroke  the  face  of  a  child  about  to  be  thrust  out  into 
a  hurrying  crowd  of  cold,  indifferent  strangers,  who  per 
haps  would  rudely  jeer  at  and  browbeat  her  darling. 

For  several  days  past  Edna  had  worked  hard  to  complete 
the  book,  and  now  at  last  she  could  fold  her  tired  hands, 
and  rest  her  weary  brain. 

But  outraged  nature  suddenly  swore  vengeance,  and  her 
overworked  nerves  rose  in  fierce  rebellion,  refusing  to  be 
calm.  She  had  so  long  anticipated  this  hour  that  its  arrival 
was  greeted  by  emotions  beyond  her  control.  As  she  con 
templated  the  possible  future  of  that  pile  of  MS.,  her  heart 
bounded  madly,  and  then  once  more  a  fearful  agony  seized 
her,  and  darkness  and  a  sense  of  suffocation  came  upon  her. 
Rising,  she  strained  her  eyes  and  groped  her  way  toward 
the  window,  but  ere  she  reached  it  fell,  and  lost  all  con 
sciousness. 

The  sound  of  the  fall,  the  crash  of  a  china  vase  which 
her  hand  had  swept  from  the  table,  echoed  startlingly 
through  the  silent  house,  and  aroused  some  of  its  inmates. 
Mrs.  Andrews  ran  upstairs  and  into  Felix's  room,  saw  that 
he  was  sleeping  soundly,  and  then  she  hastened  up  another 
flight  of  steps,  to  the  apartment  occupied  by  the  governess. 
The  gas  burned  dazzlingly  over  the  table  where  rested  the 
roll  of  MS.  and  on  the  floor  near  the  window  lay  Edna.  • 

Ringing  the  bell  furiously  to  summon  her  husband,  and 
the  servants,  Mrs.  Andrews  knelt,  raised  the  girl's  head, 
and  rubbing  her  cold  hands,  tried  to  rouse  her.  The  heart 
beat  faintly,  and  seemed  to  stop  now  and  then,  and  the  white, 
rigid  face  was  as  ghastly  as  if  the  dread  kiss  of  Samael  had 
indeed  been  pressed  upon  her  still  lips. 

Finding  all  her  restoratives  ineffectual,  Mrs.  Andrews 
sent  her  husband  for  the  family  physician,  and  with  the 
assistance  of  the  servants,  laid  the  girl  on  her  bed. 

When  the  doctor  arrived  and  questioned  her,  she  could 
furnish  no  clew  to  the  cause  of  the  attack,  save  by  pointing 
to  the  table,  where  pen  and  paper  showed  that  the  sufferer 
had  b«en  at  work. 

Edna  opened  her  eyes  at  last,  and  looked  around  at  the 
group  of  anxious  faces,  but  in  a  moment  the  spasm  of  pain 


ST.  ELMO.  377 

returned.  Twice  she  muttered  something,  and  putting  his 
ear  close  to  her  mouth,  the  doctor  heard  her  whispering 
to  herself: 

"Never  mind ;  it  is  done  at  last !    Now  I  can  rest." 

An  hour  elapsed  before  the  paroxysms  entirely  subsided, 
and  then,  with  her  ivory-like  hands  clasped  and  thrown  up 
over  her  head,  the  governess  slept  heavily,  dreamlessly. 

For  two  days  she  remained  in  her  own  apartment,  and  on 
the  morning  of  the  third  came  down  to  the  schoolroom,  with 
a  slow,  weary  step  and  a  bloodless  face,  and  a  feeling  of 
hopeless  helplessness. 

She  dispatched  her  MS.  to  the  publisher  to  whom  she  had 
resolved  to  offer  it,  and,  leaning  far  back  in  her  chair,  took 
up  Felix's  Greek  grammar. 

Since  the  days  of  Dionysius  Thrax,  it  had  probably  never 
appeared  so  tedious,  so  intolerably  tiresome,  as  she  found 
it  now,  and  she  felt  relieved,  almost  grateful  when  Mrs. 
Andrews  sent  for  her  to  come  to  the  library,  where  Dr. 
Howell  was  waiting  to  see  her. 

Seating  himself  beside  her,  the  physician  examined  her 
countenance  and  pulse,  and  put  his  ear  close  to  her  heart. 

"Miss  Earl,  have  you  had  many  such  attacks  as  the  one 
whose  effects  have  not  yet  passed  away?" 

"This  is  the  second  time  I  have  suffered  so  severely; 
though  very  frequently  I  find  a  disagreeable  fluttering 
about  my  heart,  which  is  not  very  painful." 

"What  mode  of  treatment  have  you  been  following?" 

"None,  sir.     I  have  never  consulted  a  physician." 

"Humph!   Is  it  possible?" 

He  looked  at  her  with  the  keen,  incisive  eye  of  his  pro 
fession,  and  pressed  his  ear  once  more  to  her  heart,  listening 
to  the  irregular  and  rapid  pulsations. 

"Miss  Earl,  are  you  an  orphan?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Have  you  any  living  relatives?" 

"None  that  I  ever  heard  of." 

"Did  any  of  your  family  die  suddenly?" 

"Yes,  I  have  been  told  that  my  mother  died  while  appa 
rently  as  well  as  usual,  and  engaged  in  spinning;  and  my 
grandfather  I  found  dead,  sitting  in  his  rocking-chair,  smok 
ing  his  pipe." 


378  ST.  ELMO. 

Dr.  Howell  cleared  his  throat,  sighed  and  was  silent. 

He  saw  a  strange,  startled  expression  leap  into  the  large 
shadowy  eyes,  and  the  mouth  quivered,  the  wan  face  grew 
whiter,  and  the  thin  fingers  grasped  each  other ;  but  she  said 
nothing,  and  they  sat  looking  at  one  another. 

The  physician  had  come  like  Daniel  to  the  banquet  of  life, 
and  solved  for  the  Belshazzar  of  youth  the  hideous  riddle 
scrawled  on  the  walls. 

"Dr.  Howell,  can  you  do  nothing  for  me?" 

Her  voice  had  sunk  to  a  whisper,  and  she  leaned  eagerly 
forward  to  catch  his  answer. 

"Miss  Earl,  do  you  know  what  is  meant  by  hypertrophy 
of  the  heart v' 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know." 

She  shivered  slightly. 

"Whether  you  inherited  your  disease,  I  am  not  prepared 
to  say,  but  certainly  in  your  case  there  are  some  grounds 
for  the  belief." 

Presently  she  said  abstractedly: 

"But  grandpa  lived  to  be  an  old  man." 

The  doctor's  eyes  fell  upon  the  mosaic  floor  of  the 
library ;  and  then  she  knew  that  he  could  give  her  no  hope. 

When  at  last  he  looked  up  again,  he  saw  that  she  had 
dropped  her  face  in  her  palms,  and  he  was  awed  by  the 
deathlike  repose  of  her  figure,  the  calm  fortitude  she 
evinced. 

"Miss  Earl,  I  never  deceive  my  patients.  It  is  useless  to 
dose  you  with  medicine,  and  drug  you  into  semi-insensi 
bility.  You  must  have  rest  and  quiet ;  rest  for  mind  as  well 
as  body ;  there  must  be  no  more  teaching  or  writing.  You 
are  overworked,  and  incessant  mental  labor  has  hastened 
the  approach  of  a  disease  which,  under  other  circumstances, 
might  have  encroached  very  slowly  and  imperceptibly.  If 
latent  (which  is  barely  possible)  it  has  contributed  to  a 
fearfully  rapid  development.  Refrain  from  study,  avoid  all 
excitement,  exercise  moderately  but  regularly  in  the  open 
air;  and,  above  all  things,  do  not  tax  your  brain.  If  you 
carefully  observe  these  directions  you  may  live  to  be  as  old 
as  your  grandfather.  Heart  diseases  baffle  prophecy,  and  I 
make  no  predictions." 

He  rose  and  took  his  hat  from  the  table. 


ST.  ELMO.  379 

"Miss  Earl,  I  have  read  your  writings  with  great  pleas 
ure,  and  watched  your  brightening  career  with  more  interest 
than  I  ever  felt  in  any  other  female  author ;  and  God  knows 
it  is  exceedingly  painful  for  me  to  tear  away  the  veil  from 
your  eyes.  From  the  first  time  you  were  pointed  out  to  me 
in  church,  I  saw  that  in  your  countenance  which  distressed 
and  alarmed  me ;  for  its  marble  pallor  whispered  that  your 
days  were  numbered.  Frequently  I  have  been  tempted  to 
come  and  expostulate  with  you,  but  I  knew  it  would  be  use 
less.  You  have  no  reader  who  would  more  earnestly  de 
plore  the  loss  of  your  writings,  but,  for  your  own  sake,  I 
beg  you  to  throw  away  your  pen  and  rest." 

She  raised  her  head  and  a  faint  smile  crept  feebly  across 
her  face. 

"Rest!  rest!  If  my  time  is  so  short  I  can  not  afford  to 
rest.  There  is  so  much  to  do,  so  much  that  I  have  planned, 
and  hoped  to  accomplish.  I  am  only  beginning  to  learn  how 
to  handle  my  tools,  my  life-work  is  as  yet  barely  begun. 
When  my  long  rest  overtakes  me,  I  must  not  be  found  idly 
sitting  with  folded  hands.  Since  I  was  thirteen  years  old  I 
have  never  once  rested ;  and  now  I  am  afraid  I  never  shall. 
I  would  rather  die  working  than  live  a  drone." 

"But,  my  dear  Miss  Earl,  those  who  love  you  have  claims 
upon  you." 

"I  am  alone  in  this  world.  I  have  no  family  to  love  me, 
and  my  work  is  to  me  what  I  suppose  dear  relatives  must 
•be  to  other  women.  For  six  years  I  have  been  studying  to 
fit  myself  for  usefulness,  have  lived  with  and  for  books; 
and  though  I  have  a  few  noble  and  kind  friends,  do  you 
suppose  I  ever  forget  that  I  am  kinless?  It  is  a  mournful 
thing  to  know  that  you  are  utterly  isolated  among  millions 
of  human  beings;  that  not  a  drop  of  your  blood  flows  in 
any  other  veins.  My  God  only  has  a  claim  upon  me.  Dr. 
Howell,  I  thank  you  for  your  candor.  It  is  best  that  I 
should  know  the  truth ;  and  I  am  glad  that,  instead  of  treat 
ing  me  like  a  child,  you  have  frankly  told  me  all.  More 
than  once  I  have  had  a  singular  feeling,  a  shadowy  pre 
sentiment  that  I  should  not  live  to  be  an  old  woman,  but  I 
thought  it  the  relic  of  childish  superstition,  and  I  did  not 
imagine  that — that  I  might  be  called  away  at  any  instant.  I 
did  not  suspect  that  just  as  I  had  arranged  my  workshop, 


380  ST.  ELMO. 

and  sharpened  all  my  tools,  and  measured  off  my  work, 
that  my  morning  sun  would  set  suddenly  in  the  glowing 
east,  and  the  long,  cold  night  fall  upon  me,  'wherein  no  man 
can  work' " 

Her  voice  faltered  and  the  physician  turned  away,  and 
looked  out  of  the  window. 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  death,  nor  am  I  so  wrapped  up  in  the 
mere  happiness  which  this  world  gives;  no,  no;  but  I  love 
my  work !  Ah !  I  want  to  live  long  enough  to  finish  some 
thing  grand  and  noble,  something  that  will  live  when  the 
hands  that  fashioned  it  have  crumbled  back  to  dust;  some 
thing  that  will  follow  me  across  and  beyond  the  dark,  silent 
valley;  something  that  can  not  be  hushed  and  straightened 
and  bandaged  and  screwed  down  under  my  coffin-lid — oh! 
something  that  will  echo  in  eternity!  that  grandpa  and  I 
can  hear  'sounding  down  the  ages/  making  music  for  the 
people,  when  I  go  to  my  final  rest!  And,  please  God!  I 
shall!  I  will!  Oh,  doctor!  I  have  a  feeling  here  which 
assures  me  I  shall  be  spared  till  I  finish  my  darling  scheme. 
You  know  Glanville  said,  and  Poe  quoted,  'Man  doth  not 
yield  himself  to  the  angels,  nor  unto  death  utterly,  save  only 
through  the  weakness  of  his  feeble  will.'  Mine  is  strong, 
invincible;  it  will  sustain  me  for  a  longer  period  than  you 
seem  to  believe.  The  end  is  not  yet.  Doctor,  do  not  tell 
people  what  you  have  told  me.  I  do  not  want  to  be  watched 
and  pitied,  like  a  doomed  victim  who  walks  about  the  scaf 
fold  with  a  rope  already  around  his  neck.  Let  the  secret 
rest  between  you  and  me." 

He  looked  wonderingly  at  the  electric  white  face,  and 
something  in  its  chill  radiance  reminded  him  of  the  borealis 
light,  that  waves  its  ghostly  banners  over  a  cold  midnight 
sky. 

"God  grant  that  I  may  be  in  error  concerning  your  dis 
ease  ;  and  that  threescore  years  and  ten  may  be  alloted  you, 
to  embody  the  airy  dreams  you  love  so  well.  I  repeat,  if 
you  wish  to  prolong  your  days,  give  yourself  more  rest.  I 
can  do  you  little  good ;  still,  if  at  any  time  you  fancy  that  I 
can  aid  or  relieve  you,  do  not  hesitate  to  send  for  me.  I 
shall  come  to  see  you  as  a  friend,  who  reads  and  loves  all 
that  has  yet  fallen  from  your  pen.  God  help  and  bless  you, 
child!" 


ST.  ELMO.  381 

As  he  left  the  room  she  locked  the  door,  and  walked 
slowly  back  to  the  low  mantelpiece.  Resting  her  arms  on 
the  black  marble,  she  laid  her  head  down  upon  them,  and 
ambition  and  death  stared  face  to  face,  and  held  grim  parley 
over  the  coveted  prey. 

Taking  the  probable  measure  of  her  remaining  days, 
Edna  fearlessly  fronted  the  future,  and  pondered  the  pos 
sibility  of  crowding  into  two  years  the  work  which  she  had 
designed  for  twenty. 

To  tell  the  girl  to  "rest,"  was  a  mockery;  the  tides  of 
thought  ebbed  and  flowed  as  ceaselessly  as  those  of  ocean, 
and  work  had  become  a  necessity  of  her  existence.  She  was 
far,  far  beyond  the  cool,  quiet  palms  of  rest,  far  out  on  the 
burning  sands ;  and  the  Bahr-Sheitan  rippled  and  glittered 
and  beckoned,  and  she  panted  and  pressed  on. 

One  book  was  finished,  but  before  she  had  completed  it 
the  form  and  features  of  another  struggled  in  her  busy 
brain,  and  she  longed  to  put  them  on  paper. 

The  design  of  the  second  book  appeared  to  her  partial 
eyes  almost  perfect,  and  the  first  seemed  insignificant  in 
comparison.  Trains  of  thought  that  had  charmed  her,  mak 
ing  her  heart  throb  and  her  temples  flush;  and  metaphors 
that  glowed  as  she  wrote  them  down,  ah !  how  tame  and  trite 
all  looked  now,  in  the  brighter  light  of  a  newer  revelation! 
The  attained,  the  achieved  tarnished  in  her  grasp.  All  be 
hind  was  dun ;  all  beyond  clothed  with  a  dazzling  glory  that 
lured  her  on. 

Once  the  fondest  hopes  of  her  heart  had  been  to  finish 
the  book  now  in  the  publisher's  hands;  but  ere  it  could  be 
printed,  other  characters,  other  aims,  other  scenes  usurped 
her  attention.  If  she  could  only  live  long  enough  to  incar 
nate  the  new  ideal! 

Moreover,  she  knew  that  memory  would  spring  up  and 
renew  its  almost  intolerable  torture  the  moment  that  she 
gave  herself  to  aimless  reveries ;  and  she  felt  that  her  sole 
hope  of  peace  of  mind,  her  only  rest,  was  in  earnest  and 
unceasing  labor.  Subtle  associations,  merciless  as  the 
chains  of  Bonnivard,  bound  her  to  a  past  which  she  was 
earnestly  striving  to  forget;  and  she  continually  paced  as 
far  off  as  her  shackles  would  permit,  sternly  refusing  to  sit 
down  meekly  at  the  foot  of  the  stake.  She  worked  late  at 


382  ST.  ELMO. 

night  until  her  body  was  exhausted,  because  she  dreaded  to 
lie  awake,  tossing  helplessly  on  her  pillow ;  haunted  by  pre 
cious  recollections  of  days  gone  by  forever. 

Her  name  was  known  in  the  world  of  letters,  her  reputa 
tion  was  already  enviable;  extravagant  expectations  were 
entertained  concerning  her  future ;  and  to  maintain  her  hold 
on  public  esteem,  to  climb  higher,  had  become  necessary 
for  her  happiness. 

Through  Mr.  Manning's  influence  and  friendship  she  was 
daily  making  the  acquaintance  of  leading  men  in  literature, 
and  their  letters  and  conversation  stimulated  her  to  re 
newed  exertion. 

Yet  she  had  never  stooped  to  conciliate  popular  preju 
dices,  had  never  written  a  line  which  her  conscience  did  not 
dictate  and  her  religious  convictions  sanction ;  had  bravely 
attacked  some  of  the  pet  vices  and  shameless  follies  of 
society,  and  had  never  penned  a  page  without  a  prayer  for 
guidance  from  on  High. 

Now  in  her  path  rose  God's  Reaper,  swinging  his  shining 
sickle,  threatening  to  cut  off  and  lay  low  her  budding  laurel 
wreath. 

While  she  stood  silent  and  motionless  in  the  quiet  library, 
the  woman's  soul  was  wrestling  with  God  for  permission 
to  toil  a  little  while  longer  on  earth,  to  do  some  good  for 
her  race,  and  to  assist  in  saving  a  darkened  soul  almost  as 
dear  to  her  as  her  own. 

She  never  knew  how  long  that  struggle  for  life  lasted ; 
but  when  the  prayer  ended,  and  she  lifted  her  face,  the 
shadows  and  the  sorrowful  dread  had  passed  away,  and  the 
old  calm,  the  old  sweet,  patient  smile  reigned  over  pale, 
worn  features. 

Early  in  July,  Felix's  feeble  health  forced  his  mother  to 
abandon  her  projected  tour  to  the  White  Mountains;  and 
in  accordance  with  Dr.  Howell's  advice,  Mr.  Andrews  re 
moved  his  family  to  a  seaside  summer-place,  which  he  had 
owned  for  some  years,  but  rarely  occupied,  as  his  wife  pre 
ferred  Newport,  Saratoga,  and  Nahant. 

The  house  at  the  "Willows"  was  large  and  airy,  the  ceil 
ings  were  high,  windows  wide,  and  a  broad  piazza.,  stretch 
ing  across  the  front,  was  shaded  by  two  aged  and  enormous 


ST.  ELMO.  383 

willows,  that  stood  on  either  side  of  the  steps,  and  gave  a 
name  to  the  place. 

The  fresh  matting  on  the  floors,  the  light  cane  sofa  and 
chairs,  the  white  muslin  curtains  and  newly-painted  green 
blinds  imparted  an  appearance  of  delicious  coolness  and 
repose  to  the  rooms;  and  while  not  one  bright-hued  paint 
ing  was  visible,  the  walls  were  hung  with  soft,  gray,  misty 
engravings  of  Landseer's  pictures,  framed  in  carved  ebony 
and  rosewood  and  oak. 

The  gilded  splendor  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  house  was  left 
behind ;  here  simplicity  and  quiet  comfort  held  sway.  Even 
the  china  wore  no  glitter,  but  was  enamelled  with  green 
wreaths  of  vine-leaves ;  and  the  vases  held  only  plumy  ferns, 
fresh  and  dewy. 

Low  salt  meadow-lands  extended  east  and  west,  waving 
fields  of  corn  stretched  northward,  and  the  slight  knoll  on 
which  the  building  stood  sloped  smoothly  down  to  the  ever- 
moaning,  foam-fretted  bosom  of  the  blue  Atlantic. 

To  the  governess  and  her  pupils  the  change  from  New 
York  heat  and  bustle  to  seaside  rest,  was  welcome  and  de 
lightful  ;  and  during  the  long  July  days,  when  the  strong 
ocean  breeze  tossed  aside  the  willow  boughs,  and  swept 
through  the  rustling  blinds,  and  lifted  the  hair  on  Edna's 
hot  temples,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  indeed  taken  a  new  lease 
on  life. 

For  several  weeks  her  book  had  been  announced  as  in 
press,  and  her  publishers  printed  most  flattering  circulars, 
which  heightened  expectation,  and  paved  the  way  for  its 
favorable  reception.  Save  the  first  chapter,  rejected  by  Mr. 
Manning  long  before,  no  one  had  seen  the  MS.,  and  while 
the  reading  public  was  on  the  qui  vive,  the  author  was  rap 
idly  maturing  the  plot  of  a  second  work. 

Finally,  the  book  was  bound ;  editors'  copies  winged  their 
way  throughout  the  country;  the  curious  eagerly  supplied 
themselves  with  the  latest  publication ;  and  Edna's  destiny 
as  an  author  hung  in  the  balance. 

It  was  with  strange  emotions  that  she  handled  the  copy 
sent  to  her,  for  it  seemed  indeed  a  part  of  herself.  She  knew 
that  her  own  heart  was  throbbing  in  its  pages,  and  wondered 
whether  the  great  world-pulses  would  beat  in  unison. 


384  ST.  ELMO. 

Instead  of  a  preface  she  had  quoted  on  the  title-page 
those  pithy  lines  in  "Aurora  Leigh" : 

"  My  critic  Belfair  wants  a  book 
Entirely  different,  which  will  sell  and  live; 
A  striking  book,  yet  not  a  startling  book — 
The  public  blames  originalities. 
You  must  not  pump  spring-water  unawares 
Upon  a  gracious  public  full  of  nerves — 
Good  things,  not  subtle — new,  yet  orthodox; 
As  easy  reading  as  the  dog-eared  page 
That's  fingered  by  said  public  fifty  years, 
Since  first  taught  spelling  by  its  grandmother, 
And  yet  a  revelation  in  some  sort : 
That's  hard,  my  critic  Belfair !" 

Now,  as  Edna  nestled  her  fingers  among  the  pages  of 
her  book,  a  tear  fell  and  moistened  them,  and  the  unvoiced 
language  of  her  soul  was,  "Grandpa!  do  you  keep  close 
enough  to  me  to  read  my  book?  Oh!  do  you  like  it?  are 
you  satisfied?  Are  you  proud  of  your  poor  little  Pearl?" 

The  days  were  tediously  long  while  she  waited  in  sus 
pense  for  the  result  of  the  weighing  in  editors'  sanctums, 
for  the  awful  verdict  of  the  critical  Sanhedrim.  A  week 
dragged  itself  away;  and  the  severity  of  the  decree  might 
have  entitled  it  to  one  of  those  slips  of  blue  paper  upon 
which  Frederick  the  Great  required  his  courts  to  inscribe 
their  sentences  of  death.  Edna  learned  the  full  import  of 
the  words: 

"  He  that  writes, 

Or  makes  a  feast,  more  certainly  invites 
His  judges  than  his  friends;  there's  not  a  guest 
But  will  find  something  wanting  or  ill-drest." 

Newspapers  pronounced  the  book  a  failure.  Some  sneered 
in  a  gentlemanly  manner,  employing  polite  phraseology; 
others  coarsely  caricatured  it.  Many  were  insulted  by  its 
incomprehensible  erudition;  a  few  growled  at  its  shallow- 
ness.  To-day  there  was  a  hint  at  plagiarism ;  to-morrow  an 
outright,  wholesale  theft  was  asserted.  Now  she  was  a 
pedant;  and  then  a  sciolist.  Reviews  poured  in  upon  her 
thick  and  fast;  all  found  grievous  faults,  but  no  two  re 
viewers  settled  on  the  same  error.  What  one  seemed  dis 
posed  to  consider  almost  laudable  the  other  denounced  vio- 


ST.  ELMO.  385 

lently.  One  eminently  shrewd,  lynx-eyed  editor  discovered 
that  two  of  her  characters  were  stolen  from  a  book  which 
Edna  had  never  seen;  and  another,  equally  ingenious  and 
penetrating,  found  her  entire  plot  in  a  work  of  which  she 
had  never  heard;  while  a  third,  shocked  at  her  pedantry, 
indignantly  assured  her  readers  that  they  had  been  imposed 
upon,  that  the  learning  was  all  "picked  up  from  encyclo 
paedias"  ;  whereat  the  young  author  could  not  help  laughing 
heartily,  and  wondered  why,  if  her  learning  had  been  so 
easily  gleaned,  her  irate  and  insulted  critics  did  not  follow 
her  example. 

The  book  was  for  many  days  snubbed,  buffeted,  brow 
beaten  ;  and  the  carefully-woven  tapestry  was  torn  into 
shreds  and  trampled  upon;  and  it  seemed  that  the  patiently 
sculptured  shrine  was  overtured  and  despised  and  dese 
crated. 

Edna  was  astonished.  She  knew  that  her  work  was  not 
perfect,  but  she  was  equally  sure  that  it  was  not  contempti 
ble.  She  was  surprised  rather  than  mortified,  and  was  con 
vinced,  from  the  universal  howling,  that  she  had  wounded 
more  people  than  she  dreamed  were  vulnerable. 

She  felt  that  the  impetuosity  and  savageness  of  the  at 
tacks  must  necessitate  a  recoil ;  and  though  it  was  difficult 
to  be  patient  under  such  circumstances,  she  waited  quietly, 
undismayed  by  the  clamor. 

Meantime  the  book  sold  rapidly,  the  publishers  could 
scarcely  supply  the  demand;  and  at  last  Mr.  Manning's 
Magazine  appeared,  and  the  yelping  pack  of  Dandie  Din- 
mont's  pets — Auld  Mustard  and  Little  Mustard,  Auld  Pep 
per  and  Little  Pepper,  Young  Mustard  and  Young  Pepper, 
stood  silent  and  listened  to  the  roar  of  the  lion. 

The  review  of  Edna's  work  was  headed  by  that  calm  re 
tort  of  Job  to  his  self-complacent  censors,  "No  doubt  but 
ye  are  the  people,  and  wisdom  shall  die  with  you" ;  and  it 
contained  a  withering  rebuke  to  those  who  had  so  flippantly 
essayed  to  crush  the  young  writer. 

Mr.  Manning  handled  the  book  with  the  stern  impartiality 
which  gave  such  value  to  his  criticisms — treating  it  as  if  it 
had  been  written  by  an  utter  stranger. 

He  analyzed  it  thoroughly ;  and  while  pointing  out  some 
serious  errors  which  had  escaped  all  eyes  but  his,  he  be- 


386  ST.  ELMO. 

stowed  upon  a  few  passages  praise  which  no  other  Ameri 
can  writer  had  ever  received  from  him,  and  predicted  that 
they  would  live  when  those  who  attempted  to  ridicule  them 
were  utterly  forgotten  in  their  graves. 

The  young  author  was  told  that  she  had  not  succeeded  in 
her  grand  aim,  because  the  subject  was  too  vast  for  the 
limits  of  a  novel,  and  her  acquaintance  with  the  mythologies 
of  the  world  was  not  sufficiently  extensive  or  intimate.  But 
she  was  encouraged  to  select  other  themes  more  in  accord 
ance  with  the  spirit  of  the  age  in  which  she  lived;  and  the 
assurance  was  given  to  her,  that  her  writings  were  destined 
to  exert  a  powerful  influence  on  her  race.  Some  faults  of 
style  were  gravely  reprimanded,  some  beauties  most  cor 
dially  eulogized  and  held  up  for  the  admiration  of  the 
world. 

Edna  had  as  little  literary  conceit  as  personal  vanity ;  she 
saw  and  acknowledged  the  errors  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Man 
ning,  and  resolved  to  avoid  them  in  future.  She  felt  that 
some  objections  urged  against  her  book  were  valid,  but 
knew  that  she  was  honest  and  earnest  in  her  work,  and  could 
not  justly  be  accused  of  trifling. 

Gratefully  and  joyfully  she  accepted  Mr.  Manning's  ver 
dict,  and  turned  her  undivided  attention  upon  her  new  manu 
script. 

While  the  critics  snarled,  the  mass  of  readers  warmly 
approved;  and  many  who  did  not  fully  appreciate  all  her 
arguments  and  illustrations,  were  at  least  clear-eyed  enough 
to  perceive  that  it  was  their  misfortune,  not  her  fault. 

Gradually  the  book  took  firm  hold  on  the  affections  of  the 
people ;  and  a  few  editors  came  boldly  to  the  rescue,  and 
ably  championed  it. 

During  these  days  of  trial,  Edna  could  not  avoid  observ 
ing  one  humiliating  fact,  that  saddened  without  embittering 
her  nature.  She  found  that  instead  of  sympathizing  with 
her,  she  received  no  mercy  from  authors,  who,  as  a  class, 
out-Heroded  Herod  in  their  denunciations,  and  left  her  little 
room  to  doubt  that — 

"  Envy's  a  sharper  spur  than  pay, 
And  unprovoked  'twill  court  the  fray; 
No  author  ever  spared  a  brother ; 
Wits  are  gamecocks  to  one  another." 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

"Miss  EARL,  you  promised  that  as  soon  as  I  finished  the 
'Antiquary'  you  would  read  me  a  description  of  the  spot 
which  Sir  Walter  Scott  selected  for  the  scene  of  his  story. 
We  have  read  the  last  chapter;  now  please  remember  your 
promise." 

"Felix,  in  your  hunger  for  books  you  remind  me  of  the 
accounts  given  of  cormorants.  The  'Antiquary'  ought  to 
satisfy  you  for  the  present,  and  furnish  food  for  thought 
that  would  last  at  least  till  to-morrow ;  still,  if  you  exact  an 
immediate  fulfillment  of  my  promise,  I  am  quite  ready  to 
comply." 

Edna  took  from  her  workbasket  a  new  and  handsomely 
illustrated  volume,  and  read  Bertram's  graphic  description 
of  Auchmithie  and  the  coast  of  For  far  shire. 

Finding  that  her  pupils  were  deeply  interested  in  the 
"Fisher  Folk,"  she  read  on  and  on;  and  when  she  began 
the  pathetic  story  of  the  widow  at  Prestonpans,  Hattie's 
eyes  widened  with  wonder,  and  Felix's  were  dim  with 
tears: 

"We  kent  then  that  we  micht  look  across  the  sea;  but 
ower  the  waters  would  never  blink  the  een  that  made  sun 
shine  around  our  hearths;  ower  the  waters  would  never 
come  the  voices  that  were  mair  delightfu'  than  the  music  o' 
the  simmer  winds,  when  the  leaves  gang  dancing  till  they 
sang.  My  story,  sir,  is  dune.  I  hae  nae  mair  tae  tell.  Suffi 
cient  and  suffice  it  till  say,  that  there  was  great  grief  at  the 
Pans — Rachel  weeping  for  her  weans,  and  wouldna  be  com 
forted.  The  windows  were  darkened,  and  the  air  was  heavy 
wi'  sighin'  and  sabbin'." 

The  governess  closed  the  book,  laid  it  back  in  her  basket, 
and  raising  the  lid  of  the  piano,  she  sang  that  sad,  wailing 
lyric  of  Kingsley's,  "The  Three  Fishers." 

It  was  one  of  those  rare  and  royal  afternoons  late  in 
August,  when  summer,  conscious  that  her  reign  is  well-nip-h 

[387] 


388  ST.  ELMO. 

ended,  gathers  all  her  gorgeous  drapery,  and  proudly  robes 
the  world  in  regal  pomp  and  short-lived  splendor.  Pearly 
cloud  islets,  with  silver  strands,  clustered  in  the  calm  blue  of 
the  upper  air ;  soft,  salmon-hued  cumulus  masses  sailed  sol 
emnly  along  the  eastern  horizon — atmospheric  ships  freight 
ed  in  the  tropics  with  crystal  showers  for  thirsty  fields  and 
parched  meadows — with  snow  crowns  for  Icelandic  moun 
tain  brows,  and  shrouds  of  sleet  for  mouldering  masts, 
tossed  high  and  helpless  on  desolate  Arctic  cliffs.  Restless 
gulls  flashed  their  spotless  wings,  as  they  circled  and  dipped 
in  the  shining  waves ;  and  in  the  magic  light  of  evening,  the 
swelling  canvas  of  a  distant  sloop  glittered  like  plate-glass 
smitten  with  sunshine.  A  strong,  steady,  southern  breeze 
curled  and  crested  the  beautiful,  bounding  billows,  over 
which  a  fishing-smack  danced  like  a  gilded  bubble ;  and  as 
the  aged  willows  bowed  their  heads,  it  whispered  messages 
from  citron,  palm,  and  orange  groves,  gleaming  far,  far 
away  under  the  white  fire  of  the  Southern  Crown. 

Strange  tidings  these  "winged  winds"  waft  over  sea  and 
land ;  and  to-day,  listening  to  low  tones  that  traveled  to  her 
from  Le  Bocage,  Edna  looked  out  over  the  ever-changing, 
wrinkled  face  of  the  ocean,  and  fell  into  a  reverie. 

Silence  reigned  in  the  sitting-room;  Hattie  fitted  a  new 
tarlatan  dress  on  her  doll,  and  Felix  was  dreaming  of  Pres- 
tonpans. 

The  breeze  swept  over  the  cluster  of  Tuscan  jasmine  and 
the  tall,  snowy  phlox  nodding  in  the  green  vase  on  the  table, 
and  shook  the  muslin  curtains  till  light  and  shadow  chased 
each  other  like  waves  over  the  noble  Longhi  engraving  of 
Raphael's  "Vision  of  Ezekiel,"  which  hung  just  above  the 
piano.  After  a  while  Felix  took  his  chin  from  the  window- 
sill,  and  his  eyes  from  the  sparkling,  tossing  water,  and  his 
gaze  sought  the  beloved  countenance  of  his  governess. 

"  The  mouth  with  steady  sweetness  set, 

And  eyes  conveying  unaware 
The  distant  hint  of  some  regret 
That  harbored  there." 

Her  dress  was  of  white  mull,  with  lace  gathered  around 
the  neck  and  wristbands;  a  delicate  fringy  fern  leaf  was 
caught  by  the  cameo  that  pinned  the  lace  collar,  and  around 


ST.  ELMO.  389 

the  heavy  coil  of  hair  at  the  back  of  her  head,  Hattie  had 
twined  a  spray  of  scarlet  tecoma. 

Save  the  faint  red  on  her  thin,  flexible  lips,  her  face  was 
as  stainless  as  that  of  the  Hebrew  Mary,  in  a  carved  ivory 
"Descent  from  the  Cross,"  which  hung  over  the  mantel 
piece. 

As  the  boy  watched  her  he  thought  the  beautiful  eyes 
were  larger  and  deeper,  and  burned  more  brilliantly  than 
ever  before;  and  the  violet  shadows  beneath  them  seemed  to 
widen  day  by  day,  telling  of  hard  study  and  continued  vigils. 
Pale  and  peaceful,  patiently  sad,  without  a  trace  of  bitter 
ness  or  harshness,  her  countenance  might  have  served  as  a 
model  for  some  which  Ary  Scheffer  dimly  saw  in  his  rapt 
musings  over  "Wilhelm  Meister." 

"Oh !  yonder  comes  mamma  and — Uncle  Grey !  No ; 
that  is  not  my  uncle  Grey.  Who  can  it  be?  It  is — Sir 
Roger !" 

Hattie  ran  out  to  meet  her  mother,  who  had  been  to  New 
York ;  and  Felix  frowned,  took  up  his  crutches,  and  put  on 
his  hat. 

Edna  turned  and  went  to  her  own  room,  and  in  a  few 
moments  Hattie  brought  her  a  package  of  letters,  and  a 
message  from  Mrs.  Andrews,  desiring  her  to  come  back  to 
the  sitting-room. 

Glancing  over  the  directions  the  governess  saw  that  all 
the  letters  were  from  strangers,  except  one  from  Mrs.  Mur 
ray,  which  she  eagerly  opened.  The  contents  were  melan 
choly  and  unexpected.  Mr.  Hammond  had  been  very  ill 
for  weeks,  was  not  now  in  immediate  danger,  but  was  con 
fined  to  his  room ;  and  the  physicians  thought  that  he  would 
never  be  well  again.  He  had  requested  Mrs.  Murray  to 
write,  and  beg  Edna  to  come  to  him,  and  remain  in  his  house. 
Mrs.  Powell  was  in  Europe  with  Gertrude  and  Gordon,  and 
the  old  man  was  alone  in  his  home,  Mrs.  Murray  and  her 
son  having  taken  care  of  him  thus  far.  At  the  bottom  of 
the  pa^e  Mr.  Hammond  had  scrawled  almost  illegibly: 
"My  dear  child,  I  need  you.  Come  to  me  at  once." 

Mrs.  Murray  had  added  a  postscript  to  tell  her  that  if 
she  would  telegraph  them  upon  what  day  she  could  arrange 
to  start,  Mr.  Murray  would  come  to  New  York  for  her. 

Edna  put  the  letter  out  of  sight,  and  girded  herself  for 


390 


ST.  ELMO. 


a  desperate  battle  with  her  famishing  heart,  which  bounded 
wildly  at  the  tempting  joys  spread  almost  within  reach.  The 
yearning  to  go  back  to  the  dear  old  parsonage,  to  the  re 
vered  teacher,  to  cheer  and  brighten  his  declining  days,  and, 
above  all,  to  see  Mr.  Murray's  face,  to  hear  his  voice  once 
more,  oh!  the  temptation  was  strong  indeed,  and  the  cost  of 
resistance  bitter  beyond  precedent.  Having  heard  inci 
dentally  of  the  reconciliation  that  had  taken  place,  she  knew 
why  Mr.  Hammond  so  earnestly  desired  her  presence  in  a 
house  where  Mr.  Murray  now  spent  much  of  his  time;  she 
knew  all  the  arguments,  all  the  pleadings  to  which  she  must 
listen,  and  she  dared  not  trust  her  heart. 

"Enter  not  into  temptation!"  was  the  warning  which  she 
uttered  again  and  again  to  her  own  soul ;  and  though  she 
feared  the  pastor  would  be  pained,  she  felt  that  he  would 
not  consider  her  ungrateful — knew  that  his  warm,  tender 
heart  would  understand  hers. 

Though  she  had  always  studiously  endeavored  to  expel 
Mr.  Murray  from  her  thoughts,  there  came  hours  when  his 
image  conquered;  when  the  longing,  the  intense  wish  to 
see  him  was  overmastering;  when  she  felt  that  she  would 
give  ten  years  of  her  life  for  one  long  look  into  his  face,  or 
for  a  picture  of  him. 

Now,  when  she  had  only  to  say,  "Come!"  and  he  would 
be  with  her,  she  sternly  denied  her  starving  heart,  and  in 
stead  of  bread  gave  it  stones  and  serpents. 

She  took  her  pen  to  answer  the  letter,  but  a  pang  which 
she  had  learned  to  understand  told  her  that  she  was  not 
now  strong  enough;  and,  swallowing  some  medicine  which 
Dr.  Howell  had  prescribed,  she  snatched  up  a  crimson  scarf 
and  went  down  to  the  beach. 

The  serenity  of  her  countenance  had  broken  up  in  a  fear 
ful  tempest,  and  her  face  writhed  as  she  hurried  along  to 
overtake  Felix.  Just  now  she  dreaded  to  be  alone,  and  yet 
the  only  companionship  she  could  endure  was  that  of  the 
feeble  cripple,  whom  she  had  learned  to  love,  as  woman 
can  love  only  when  all  her  early  idols  are  in  the  dust. 

"Wait  for  me,  Felix!" 

The  boy  stopped,  turned,  and  limped  back  to  meet  her, 
for  there  was  a  strange,  pleading  intonation  in  her  mourn 
fully  sweet  voice. 


ST.  ELMO. 


391 


"What  is  the  matter,  Miss  Earl  ?    You  look  troubled." 

"I  only  want  to  walk  with  you,  for  I  feel  lonely  this 
evening." 

"Miss  Earl,  have  you  seen  Sir  Roger  Percival?" 

"No,  no;  why  should  I  see  him?  Felix,  my  darling,  my 
little  brother!  do  not  call  me  Miss  Earl  any  longer.  Call 
me  Edna.  Ah,  child !  I  am  utterly  alone ;  I  must  have  some 
body  to  love  me.  My  heart  turns  to  you." 

She  passed  her  arm  around  the  boy's  shoulders  and  leaned 
against  him,  while  he  rested  on  his  crutches  and  looked  up 
at  her  with  fond  pride. 

"Edna !  I  have  wanted  to  call  you  so  since  the  day  I  first 
saw  you.  You  know  very  well  that  I  love  you  better  than 
every  thing  else  in  the  world.  If  there  is  any  good  in  me, 
I  shall  have  to  thank  you  for  it ;  if  ever  I  am  useful,  it  will 
be  your  work.  I  am  wicked  still;  but  I  never  look  at  you 
without  trying  to  be  a  better  boy.  You  do  not  need  me — 
you  who  are  so  great  and  gifted ;  whose  writings  everybody 
reads  and  admires;  whose  name  is  already  famous.  Oh! 
you  can  not  need  any  one,  and,  least  of  all,  a  poor  little  help 
less  cripple !  who  can  only  worship  you,  and  love  the  sound 
of  your  voice  better  than  all  the  music  that  ever  was  played! 
If  I  thought  that  you,  Miss  Earl — whose  book  all  the  world 
is  talking  about — if  I  thought  you  really  cared  for  me — 
Oh,  Edna!  Edna!  I  believe  my  heart  would  be  too  big  for 
my  poor  little  body !" 

"Felix,  we  need  each  other.  Do  you  suppose  I  would 
have  followed  you  out  here,  if  I  did  not  prefer  your  society 
to  that  of  others  ?" 

"Something  has  happened  since  you  sang  the  'Three 
Fishers'  and  sat  looking  out  of  the  window  an  hour  ago. 
Your  face  has  changed.  What  is  it,  Edna  ?  Can't  you  trust 
me?" 

"Yes.  I  received  a  letter  which  troubles  me.  It  an 
nounces  the  feeble  health  of  a  dear  and  noble  friend,  who 
writes  begging  me  to  come  to  him,  and  nurse  and  remain 
with  him  as  long  as  he  lives.  You  need  not  start  and 
shiver  so — I  am  not  going.  I  shall  not  leave  you ;  but  it 
distresses  me  to  know  that  he  has  asked  an  impossible  thing. 
Now  you  can  understand  why  I  did  not  wish  to  be  alone." 

She  leaned  her  cheek  down  on  the  boy's  head,  and  both 


392 


ST.  ELMO. 


stood  silent,  looking  over  the  wide  heaving  waste  of  imme 
morial  waters. 

A  glowing  orange  sky  overarched  an  orange  ocean,  which 
slowly  became  in  turn  ruby,  and  rose,  and  violet,  and  pearly 
gray,  powdered  with  a  few  dim  stars.  As  the  rising  waves 
broke  along  the  beach,  the  stiffening  breeze  bent  the  spray 
till  it  streamed  like  silvery  plumes ;  and  the  low  musical 
murmur  swelled  to  a  monotonous  moan,  that  seemed  to 
come  over  the  darkening  waters  like  wails  of  the  lost  from 
some  far,  far  "isles  of  the  sea." 

Awed  by  the  mysterious  solemnity  which  ever  broods  over 
the  ocean,  Felix  slowly  repeated  that  dirge  of  Tennyson's, 
"Break,  break,  break!"  and  when  he  commenced  the  last 
verse,  Edna's  voice,  low  and  quivering,  joined  his. 

Out  of  the  eastern  sea,  up  through  gauzy  cloud-bars,  rose 
the  moon,  round,  radiant,  almost  full,  shaking  off  the  mists, 
burnishing  the  waves  with  a  ghostly  lustre. 

The  wind  rose  and  fluttered  Edna's  scarlet  scarf  like  a 
pirate's  pennon,  and  the  low  moan  became  a  deep,  sullen, 
ominous  mutter. 

"There  will  be  a  gale  before  daylight ;  it  is  brewing  down 
yonder  at  the  southwest.  The  wind  has  veered  since  we 
came  out.  There !  did  you  notice  what  a  savage  snort  there 
was  in  that  last  gust?" 

Felix  pointed  to  the  distant  water-line,  where  now  and 
then  a  bluish  flash  of  lightning  showed  the  teeth  of  the 
storm  raging  far  away  under  southern  constellations,  ex 
tinguishing  for  a  time  the  golden  flame  of  Canopus. 

"Yes,  you  must  go  in,  Felix.  I  ought  not  to  have  kept 
you  out  so  long." 

Reluctantly  she  turned  from  the  beach,  and  they  had 
proceeded  but  a  few  yards  in  the  direction  of  the  house  when 
they  met  Mrs.  Andrews  and  her  guest. 

"Felix,  my  son !  Too  late,  too  late  for  you !  Come  in  with 
me.  Miss  Earl,  as  you  are  so  fond  of  the  beach,  I  hope 
you  will  show  Sir  Roger  all  its  beauties.  I  commit  him  to 
your  care." 

She  went  toward  the  house  with  her  boy,  and  as  Sir 
Roger  took  Edna's  hand  and  bent  forward,  looking  eagerly 
into  her  face,  she  saw  a  pained  and  startled  expression  crocr, 
his  own. 


ST.  ELMO.  393 

"Miss  Earl,  did  you  receive  a  letter  from  me  written  im 
mediately  after  the  perusal  of  your  book?" 

"Yes,  Sir  Roger,  and  your  cordial  congratulations  and 
flattering  opinion  were,  I  assure  you,  exceedingly  gratify 
ing,  especially  as  you  were  among  the  first  who  found  any 
thing  in  it  to  praise." 

"You  have  no  idea  with  what  intense  interest  I  have 
watched  its  reception  at  the  hands  of  the  press,  and  I  think 
the  shallow,  flippant  criticisms  were  almost  as  nauseous  to 
me  as  they  must  have  been  to  you.  Your  book  has  had  a 
fierce  struggle  with  these  self-consecrated,  red-handed,  high- 
priests  of  the  literary  Yama;  but  its  success  is  now  estab 
lished,  and  I  bring  you  news  of  its  advent  in  England, 
where  it  has  been  republished.  You  can  well  afford  to  ex 
claim  with  Drayton: 

'  We  that  calumnious  critic  may  aschew, 

That  blasteth  all  things  with  his  poisoned  breath. 
Detracting  what  laboriously  we  do 
Only  with  that  which  he  but  idly  saith.' 

The  numerous  assaults  made  upon  you  reminded  me  con 
stantly  of  the  remarks  of  Blackwood  a  year  or  two  since: 
'Formerly  critics  were  as  scarce  and  formidable,  and  conse 
quently  as  well  known  as  mastiffs  in  a  country  parish ;  but 
now  no  luckless  traveller  can  show  his  face  in  a  village  with 
out  finding  a  whole  pack  yelping  at  his  heels.'  Fortunately, 
Miss  Earl,  though  they  show  their  teeth,  and  are  evidently 
anxious  to  mangle,  they  are  not  strong  enough  to  do  much 
harm.  Have  you  answered  any  of  these  attacks?" 

"No,  sir.  Had  I  ever  commenced  filling  the  sieve  of  the 
Danaides,  I  should  have  time  for  nothing  else.  If  you  will 
not  regard  me  as  exceedingly  presumptuous,  and  utterly 
ridiculous  by  the  comparison,  I  will  add  that,  with  reference 
to  unfavorable  criticism,  I  have  followed  the  illustrious  ex 
ample  of  Buffon,  who  said,  when  critics  opened  their  bat 
teries,  'Je  n'ai  jamais  repondu  a  aucune  critique,  et  je  gar- 
dcrai  le  meme  silence  sur  cclle-ci.'  " 

"But,  my  dear  Miss  Earl,  I  see  that  you  have  been  ac 
cused  of  plagiarizing.  Have  you  not  refuted  this  state 
ment?" 

"Again  I  find  Buffon's  words  rising  !:o  answer  for  me, 


394 


ST.  ELMO. 


as  they  did  for  himself  under  similar  circumstances,  '//  vaut 
rnicux  laisser  ces  mauvaises  gens  dans  I' incertitude!'  More 
over,  sir,  I  have  no  right  to  complain,  for  if  it  is  necessary  in 
well-regulated  municipalities  to  have  inspectors  of  all  other 
eommodities,  why  not  of  books  also !  I  do  not  object  to  the 
rigid  balancing — I  wish  to  pass  for  no  more  than  I  weigh; 
but  I  do  feel  inclined  to  protest  sometimes,  when  I  see  my 
self  denounced  simply  because  the  scales  are  too  small  to 
hold  what  is  ambitiously  piled  upon  them,  and  my  book  is 
either  thrown  out  pettishly,  or  whittled  and  scraped  down 
to  fit  the  scales.  The  storm,  Sir  Roger,  was  very  severe  at 
first — nay,  it  is  not  yet  ended;  but  I  hope,  I  believe  I  shall 
weather  it  safely.  If  my  literary  bark  had  proved  unworthy 
and  sprung  a  leak  and  foundered,  it  would  only  have  shown 
that  it  did  not  deserve  to  live ;  that  it  was  better  it  should  go 
down  alone  and  early,  than  when  attempting  to  pilot  others 
on  the  rough  unknown  sea  of  letters.  I  can  not  agree  with 
you  in  thinking  that  critics  are  more  abundant  now  than  for 
merly.  More  books  are  written,  and  consequently  more  are 
tabooed ;  but  the  history  of  literature  proves  that,  from  the 
days  of  Congreve, 

'  Critics  to  plays  for  the  same  end  resort 
That  surgeons  wait  on  trials  in  a  court; 
For  innocence  condemned  they've  no  respect 
Provided  they've  a  body  to  dissect.' 

After  all,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  some  of  the  best  portions 
of  Byron's  and  Pope's  writings  were  scourged  out  of  them 
by  the  scorpion  thongs  of  adverse  criticism;  and  the  viru 
lence  of  the  Xenien  Sturm  waged  by  Schiller  and  Goethe 
against  the  army  of  critics  who  assaulted  them,  attests  the 
fact  that  even  appreciative  Germany  sometimes  nods  in  her 
critical  councils.  Certainly  I  have  had  my  share  of  scourg 
ing  ;  for  my  critics  have  most  religiously  observed  the  warn 
ing  of  'Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child';  and  henceforth  if 
my  writings  are  not  model,  well-behaved,  puritanical  literary 
children,  my  censors  must  be  exonerated  from  all  blame, 
and  I  will  give  testimony  in  favor  of  the  zeal  and  punctu 
ality  of  these  self-elected  officials  of  the  public  whipping 
post.  The  canons  have  not  varied  one  iota  for  ages;  if 
authors  merely  reflect  the  ordinary  normal  aspect  of  society, 


ST.  ELMO.  395 

without  melodramatic  exaggeration  or  ludicrous  caricature, 
they  are  voted  trite,  humdrum,  commonplace,  and  live  no 
longer  than  their  contemporaries.  If  they  venture  a  step  in 
advance,  and  attempt  to  lead,  to  lift  up  the  masses,  or  to 
elevate  the  standard  of  thought  and  extend  its  range,  they 
are  scoffed  at  as  pedants,  and  die  unhonored  prophets ;  and 
just  as  the  tomb  is  sealed  above  them,  people  peer  more 
closely  into  their  books,  and  whisper,  'There  is  something 
here  after  all;  great  men  have  been  among  us.'  The  next 
generation  chants  paeans,  and  casts  chaplets  on  the  graves, 
and  so  the  world  rings  with  the  names  of  ghosts,  and  fame 
pours  generous  libations  to  appease  the  manes  of  genius 
slaughtered  on  the  altar  of  criticism.  Once  Schiller  said, 
'Against  public  stupidity  the  gods  themselves  are  powerless.' 
Since  then,  that  same  public  lifted  him  to  the  pedestal  of  a 
demi-god ;  now  all  Germany  proudly  claims  him ;  and  who 
shall  tell  us  where  sleep  his  long- forgotten  critics?  Such 
has  been  the  history  of  the  race  since  Homer  groped 
through  vine-clad  Chios,  and  poor  Dante  was  hunted  from 
city  to  city.  If  the  great  hierarchs  of  literature  are  some 
times  stabbed  while  ministering  at  the  shrine,  what  can  we 
humble  acolytes  expect  but  to  be  scourged  entirely  out  of 
the  temple  ?  We  all  get  our  dues  at  last ;  for  yonder,  among 
the  stars,  Astrsea  laughs  at  man's  valuations,  and  shakes  her 
infallible  balance  and  re-weighs  us." 

She  had  crossed  her  arms  on  the  low  stone  wall  that  en 
closed  the  lawn,  and  bending  forward,  the  moon  shone  full 
on  her  face,  and  her  eyes  and  her  thoughts  went  out  to  sea. 
Her  companion  stood  watching  her  countenance,  and  some 
strange  expression  there  recalled  to  his  mind  that  vivid 
description : 

"And  then  she  raised  her  head,  and  upward  cast 
Wild  looks  from  homeless  eyes,  whose  liquid  light 
Gleamed  out  between  the  folds  of  blue-black  hair, 
As  gleam  twin  lakes  between  the  purple  peaks 
Of  deep  Parnassus,  at  the  mournful  moon." 

After  a  short  silence,  Sir  Roger  said : 

"Miss  Earl,  I  can  find  no  triumph  written  on  your  feat 
ures,  and  I  doubt  whether  you  realize  how  very  proud  your 
friends  are  of  your  success." 


396  ST.  ELMO. 

"As  yet,  sir,  it  is  not  assured.  My  next  book  will  deter 
mine  my  status  in  literature ;  and  I  have  too  much  to  accom 
plish — I  have  achieved  too  little,  to  pause  and  look  back, 
and  pat  my  own  shoulder,  and  cry,  lo  triumphe!  I  am  not 
so  indifferent  as  you  seem  to  imagine.  Praise  gratifies,  and 
censure  pains  me ;  but  I  value  both  as  mere  gauges  of  my 
work,  indexing  the  amount  of  good  I  may  or  may  not  hope 
to  effect.  I  wish  to  be  popular — that  is  natural,  and,  surely, 
pardonable ;  but  I  desire  it  not  as  an  end,  but  as  a  means  to 
an  end — usefulness  to  my  fellow-creatures; 

'And  whether  crowned  or  crownless,  when  I  fall, 
It  matters  not,  so  as  God's  work  is  done.' 

I  love  my  race,  I  honor  my  race ;  I  believe  that  human  na 
ture,  sublimated  by  Christianity,  is  capable  of  attaining 
nobler  heights  than  pagan  philosophers  and  infidel  seers 
ever  dreamed  of.  And  because  my  heart  yearns  toward 
my  fellow-creatures,  I  want  to  clasp  one  hand  in  the  warm 
throbbing  palm  of  sinful  humanity,  and  with  the  other  hold 
up  the  lamp  that  God  gave  me  to  carry  through  this  world, 
and  so  struggle  onward,  heavenward,  with  this  generation 
of  men  and  women.  I  claim  no  clear  Uriel  vision,  now  and 
then  I  stumble  and  grope ;  but  at  least  I  try  to  keep  my  little 
lamp  trimmed,  and  I  am  not  so  blind  as  some,  who  reel  and 
stagger  in  the  Maremme  of  crime  and  fashionable  vice.  As 
a  pilgrim  toiling  through  a  world  of  sinful  temptation,  and 
the  night  of  time  where  the  stars  are  often  shrouded,  I  cry 
to  those  beyond  and  above  me,  'Hold  high  your  lights,  that 
I  may  see  my  way!'  and  to  those  behind  and  below  me, 
'Brothers!  sisters!  come  on,  come  up!'  Ah!  these  steeps  of 
human  life  are  hard  enough  to  climb  when  each  shares  his 
light  and  divides  his  neighbor's  grievous  burden.  God  help 
us  all  to  help  one  another !  Mecca  pilgrims  stop  in  the  Val 
ley  of  Muna  to  stone  the  Devil;  sometimes  I  fear  that  in 
the  Muna  of  life  we  only  stone  each  other  and  martyr 
Stephen.  Last  week  I  read  a  lecture  on  architecture,  and 
since  then  I  find  myself  repeating  one  of  the  passages: 
'And  therefore,  lastly  and  chiefly,  you  must  love  the  crea 
tures  to  whom  you  minister,  your  fellow-men ;  for  if  you  do 
not  love  them,  not  only  will  you  be  little  interested  in  the 
passing  events  of  life,  but  in  all  your  gazing  at  humanity,  you 


ST.  ELMO.  397 

will  be  apt  to  be  struck  only  by  outside  form,  and  not  by 
expression.  It  is  only  kindness  and  tenderness  which  will 
ever  enable  you  to  see  what  beauty  there  is  in  the  dark 
eyes  that  are  sunk  with  weeping,  and  in  the  paleness  of 
those  fixed  faces  which  the  earth's  adversity  has  compassed 
about,  till  they  shine  in  their  patience  like  dying  watch-fires 
through  twilight.'  In  some  sort  I  think  we  are  all  me 
chanics — moral  architects,  designing  as  apprentices  on  the 
sands  of  time  that  which,  as  master  builders,  we  shall  surely 
erect  on  the  jasper  pavements  of  eternity.  So  let  us  all 
heed  the  noble  words." 

She  seemed  talking  rather  to  herself,  or  to  the  surging 
sea  where  her  eyes  rested,  than  to  Sir  Roger;  and  as  he 
noticed  the  passionless  pallor  of  her  face,  he  sighed,  and 
put  his  hands  on  hers. 

"Come,  walk  with  me  on  the  beach,  and  let  me  tell  you 
why  I  came  back  to  New  York,  instead  of  sailing  from 
Canada,  as  I  once  intended." 

A  half  hour  elapsed,  and  Mrs.  Andrews,  who  was  sitting 
alone  on  the  piazza,  saw  the  governess  coming  slowly  up 
the  walk.  As  she  ascended  the  steps,  the  lady  of  the  house 
exclaimed : 

"Where  is  Sir  Roger?" 

"He  has  gone." 

"Well,  my  dear!  Pardon  me  for  anticipating  you,  but 
as  I  happen  to  know  all  about  the  affair,  accept  my  con 
gratulations.  You  are  the  luckiest  woman  in  America." 

Mrs.  Andrews  put  her  arm  around  Edna's  waist,  but 
something  in  the  countenance  astonished  and  disappointed 
her. 

"Mrs.  Andrews,  Sir  Roger  sails  to-morrow  for  England. 
He  desired  me  to  beg  that  you  would  excuse  him  for  not 
coming  to  bid  you  good-bye." 

"Sails  to-morrow!    When  does  he  return  to  America?" 

"Probably  never." 

"Edna  Earl,  you  are  an  idiot!  You  may  have  any  amount 
of  genius,  but  certainly  not  one  grain  of  common  sense!  I 
have  no  patience  with  you !  I  had  set  my  heart  on  seeing 
you  his  wife." 

"But,  unfortunately  for  me,  I  could  not  set  my  heart  on 
him.  I  am  very  sorry.  I  wish  we  had  never  met,  for  in- 


398  ST.  ELMO. 

deed  I  like  Sir  Roger.  But  it  is  useless  to  discuss  what  is 
past  and  irremediable.  Where  are  the  children?" 

"Asleep,  I  suppose.  After  all,  show  me  'a  gifted  woman, 
a  genius,'  and  I  will  show  you  a  fool." 

Mrs.  Andrews  bit  her  lip,  and  walked  off ;  and  Edna  went 
upstairs  to  Felix's  room. 

The  boy  was  sitting  by  the  open  window,  watching  gray 
clouds  trailing  across  the  moon,  checkering  the  face  of  the 
mighty  deep,  now  with  shadow,  now  with  sheen.  So  ab 
sorbed  was  he  in  his  communing  with  the  mysterious  spirit 
of  the  sea,  that  he  did  not  notice  the  entrance  of  the  gov 
erness  until  he  felt  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Ah!  have  you  come  at  last?  Edna,  I  was  wishing  for 
you  a  little  while  ago,  for  as  I  sat  looking  over  the  waves, 
a  pretty  thought  came  into  my  mind,  and  I  want  to  tell  you 
about  it.  Last  week,  you  remember,  we  were  reading  about 
Antony  and  Cleopatra;  and  just  now,  while  I  was  watching 
a  large  star  yonder  making  a  shining  track  across  the  sea, 
a  ragged,  hungry-looking  cloud  crept  up,  and  nibbled  at  the 
edge  of  the  star,  and  swallowed  it !  And  I  called  the  cloud 
Cleopatra  swallowing  her  pearl !" 

Edna  looked  wonderingly  into  the  boy's  bright  eyes,  and 
drew  his  head  to  her  shoulder. 

"My  dear  Felix,  are  you  sure  you  never  heard  that  same 
thought  read  or  quoted?  It  is  beautiful,  but  this  is  not 
the  first  time  I  have  heard  it.  Think,  my  dear  little  boy; 
try  to  remember  where  you  saw  it  written." 

"Indeed,  Edna,  I  never  saw  it  anywhere.  I  am  sure  I 
never  heard  it  either;  for  it  seemed  quite  new  when  it 
bounced  into  my  mind  just  now.  Who  else  ever  thought 
of  it?" 

"Mr.  Stanyan  Bigg,  an  English  poet,  whose  writings  are 
comparatively  unknown  in  this  country.  His  works  I  have 
never  seen,  but  I  read  a  review  of  them  in  an  English  book, 
which  contained  many  extracts ;  and  that  pretty  metaphor 
which  you  used  just  now,  was  among  them." 

"Is  that  review  in  our  library?" 

"No,  I  am  sure  it  is  not ;  but  you  may  have  seen  the  lines 
quoted  somewhere  else." 

"Edna,  I  am  very  certain  I  never  heard  it  before.  Do 
you  recollect  how  it  is  written  in  the  Englishman's  poem? 


ST.  ELMO.  399 

If  you  can  repeat  it,  I  shall  know  instantly,  because  my 
memory  is  very  good." 

"I  think  I  can  give  you  one  stanza,  for  I  read  it  when 
I  was  in  great  sorrow,  and  it  made  an  impression  upon 
me: 

'  The  clouds,  like  grim  black  faces,  come  and  go ; 

One  tall  tree  stretches  up  against  the  sky; 
It  lets  the  rain  through,  like  a  trembling  hand 

Pressing  thin  fingers  on  a  watery  eye. 
The  moon  came,  but  shrank  back,  like  a  young  girl 

Who  has  burst  in  upon  funereal  sadness ; 
One  star  came — Cleopatra-like,  the  Night 

Swallowed  this  one  pearl  in  a  fit  of  madness ! ' 

"Well,  Felix,  you  are  a  truthful  boy,  and  I  can  trust 
you!" 

'I  never  heard  the  poetry  before,  and  I  tell  you,  Edna, 
the  idea  is  just  as  much  mine  as  it  is  Mr.  Biggs's !" 

'"'I  believe  you.  Such  coincidences  are  rare,  and  people 
are  very  loath  to  admit  the  possibility;  but  that  they  do 
occasionally  occur,  I  have  no  doubt.  Perhaps  some  day 
when  you  write  a  noble  poem,  and  become  a  shining  light 
in  literature,  you  may  tell  this  circumstance  to  the  world ; 
and  bid  it  beware  how  it  idly  throws  the  charge  of  plagiar 
ism  against  the  set  teeth  of  earnest,  honest  workers." 

"Edna,  I  look  at  my  twisted  feet  sometimes,  and  I  feel 
thankful  that  it  is  my  body,  not  my  mind,  that  is  deformed. 
If  I  am  ever  able  to  tell  the  world  anything,  it  will  be  how 
much  I  owe  you;  for  I  trace  all  holy  thoughts  and  pretty 
ideas  to  you  and  your  music  and  your  writings." 

They  sat  there  awhile  in  silence,  watching  heavy  masses 
of  cloud  darken  the  sea  and  sky;  and  then  Felix  lifted  his 
face  from  Edna's  shoulder,  and  asked  timidly: 

"Did  you  send  Sir  Roger  away?" 

"He  goes  to  Europe  to-morrow,  I  believe." 

"Poor  Sir  Roger!  I  am  sorry  for  him.  I  told  mamma 
you  never  thought  of  him ;  that  you  loved  nothing  but  books 
and  flowers  and  music." 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"I  have  watched  you,  and  when  he  was  with  you  I  never 
saw  that  great  shining  light  in  your  eyes,  or  that  strange 
moving  of  your  lower  lip,  that  always  shows  me  when  you 
are  really  glad;  as  you  were  that  Sunday  when  the  music 


4OO 


ST.  ELMO. 


was  so  grand;  or  that  rainy  morning  when  we  saw  the 
pictures  of  the  'Two  Marys  at  the  Sepulchre.'  I  almost 
hated  poor  Sir  Roger,  because  I  was  afraid  he  might  take 
you  to  England,  and  then,  what  would  have  become  of  me? 
Oh!  the  world  seems  so  different,  so  beautiful,  so  peaceful, 
as  long  as  I  have  you  with  me.  Everybody  praises  you,  and 
is  proud  of  you,  but  nobody  loves  you,  as  I  do." 

He  took  her  hand,  passed  it  over  his  cheek  and  forehead, 
and  kissed  it  tenderly. 

"Felix,  do  you  feel  at  all  sleepy?" 

"Not  at  all.  Tell  me  something  more  about  the  animal- 
cula  that  cause  the  phosphorescence  yonder — making  the  top 
of  each  wave  look  like  a  fringe  of  fire.  It  is  true  that  they 
are  little  round  things  that  look  like  jelly — so  small  that  it 
takes  one  hundred  and  seventy,  all  in  a  row,  to  make  an 
inch ;  and  that  a  wineglass  can  hold  millions  of  them?" 

"I  do  not  feel  well  enough  to-night  to  talk  about  animal- 
cula.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  one  of  those  terrible  attacks 
I  had  last  winter.  Felix,  please  don't  go  to  bed  for  a  while 
at  least;  and  if  you  hear  me  call,  come  to  me  quickly.  I 
must  write  a  letter  before  I  sleep.  Sit  here,  will  you,  till 
I  come  back?" 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  shrank  from  the  thought 
of  suffering  alone,  and  felt  the  need  of  a  human  presence. 

"Edna,  let  me  call  mamma.  I  saw  this  afternoon  that  you 
were  not  well." 

"No,  it  may  pass  off;  and  I  want  nobody  about  me  but 
you." 

Only  a  narrow  passage  divided  her  room  from  his;  and 
leaving  the  door  open,  she  sat  down  before  her  desk  to  an 
swer  Mr.  Hammond's  appeal. 

As  the  night  wore  on,  the  wind  became  a  gale ;  the  fitful, 
bluish  glare  of  the  lightning  showed  fearful  ranks  of  raven 
ous  waves  scowling  over  each  others'  shoulders;  a  roar  as 
of  universal  thunder  shook  the  shore,  and  in  the  coral- 
columned  cathedral  of  the  great  deep,  wrathful  ocean  played 
a  wild  and  weird  fugue. 

Felix  waited  patiently,  listening  amid  the  dead  diapason 
of  wind  and  wave,  for  the  voice  of  his  governess.  But  no 
sound  came  from  the  opposite  room;  and  at  last,  alarmed 


ST.  ELMO.  401 

by  the  omnious  silence,  he  took  up  his  crutches  and  crossed 
the  passage. 

The  muslin  curtains,  blown  from  their  ribbon  fastenings, 
streamed  like  signals  of  distress  on  the  breath  of  the  tem 
pest,  and  the  lamplight  flickered  and  leaped  to  the  top  of  its 
glass  chimney. 

On  the  desk  lay  two  letters  addressed  respectively  to  Mr. 
Hammond  and  Mrs.  Murray,  and  beside  them  were  scat 
tered  half  a  dozen  notes  from  unknown  correspondents, 
asking  for  the  autograph  and  photograph  of  the  young 
author. 

Edna  knelt  on  the  floor,  hiding  her  face  in  the  arms 
Avhich  were  crossed  on  the  lid  of  the  desk. 

The  cripple  came  close  to  her  and  hesitated  a  moment, 
then  touched  her  lightly: 

"Edna,  are  you  ill,  or  are  you  only  praying?" 

She  lifted  her  head  instantly,  and  the  blanched,  weary 
face  reminded  the  boy  of  a  picture  of  Gethsemane,  which, 
having  once  seen,  he  could  never  recall  without  a  shudder. 

"Forgive  me,  Felix!  I  forgot  that  you  were  waiting — 
forgot  that  I  asked  you  to  sit  up." 

She  rose,  took  the  thin  little  form  in  her  arms,  and  whis 
pered  : 

"I  am  sorry  I  kept  you  up  so  long.  The  pain  has  passed 
away.  I  think  the  danger  is  over  now.  Go  back  to  your 
room,  and  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  possible.  Good-night,  my 
darling." 

They  kissed  each  other  and  separated;  but  the  fury  of 
the  tempest  forbade  all  idea  of  sleep,  and  thinking  of  the 
"Fisher  Folk"  exposed  to  its  wrath,  governess  and  pupil 
committed  them  to  Him  who  calmed  the  Galilean  gale. 

"  The  sea  was  all  a  boiling,  seething  froth, 
And  God  Almighty's  guns  were  going  off, 
And  the  land  trembled." 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE  Greek  myth  concerning  Demophoon  embodies  a 
valuable  truth,  which  the  literary  career  of  Edna  Earl  was 
destined  to  exemplify.  Harsh  critics,  like  disguised  Ceres, 
plunged  the  young  author  into  the  flames ;  and  fortunately 
for  her,  as  no  short-sighted,  loving  Metanira  snatched  her 
from  the  fiery  ordeal,  she  ultimately  obtained  the  boon  of 
immortality.  Her  regular  contributions  to  the  magazine 
enhanced  her  reputation,  and  broadened  the  sphere  of  her 
influence. 

Profoundly  impressed  by  the  conviction  that  she  held  her 
talent  in  trust,  she  worked  steadily,  looking  neither  to  the 
right  nor  left,  but  keeping  her  eyes  fixed  upon  that  day  when 
she  should  be  called  to  render  an  account  to  Him  who 
would  demand  His  own  with  interest  Instead  of  becoming 
flushed  with  success,  she  grew  daily  more  cautious,  more 
timid,  lest  inadvertence  or  haste  should  betray  her  into 
errors.  Consequently  as  the  months  rolled  away,  each 
magazine  article  seemed  an  improvement  on  the  last,  and 
lifted  her  higher  in  public  favor.  The  blacksmith's  grand 
child  had  become  a  power  in  society. 

Feeling  that  a  recluse  life  would  give  her  only  partial 
glimpses  of  that  humanity  which  she  wished  to  study,  she 
moved  in  the  circle  of  cultivated  friends  who  now  eagerly 
stretched  out  their  arms  to  receive  her;  and  "keeping  her 
self  unspotted  from  the  world,"  she  earnestly  scrutinized 
social  leprosy,  and  calmly  watched  the  tendency  of  Ameri 
can  thought  and  feeling. 

Among  philosophic  minds  she  saw  an  inclination  to 
ignore  the  principles  of  such  systems  as  Sir  William  Ham 
ilton's,  and  to  embrace  the  modified  and  subtle  materialism 
of  Buckle  and  Mill,  or  the  gross  atheism  of  Buchner  and 
Moleschott.  Positivism  in  philosophy  and  pre-Raphaelitism 
in  art,  confronted  her  in  the  ranks  of  the  literary, — lofty 
idealism  seemed  trodden  down — pawed  over  by  Carlyle's 
"Monster  Utilitaria." 

When  she  turned  to  the  next  social  stratum  she  found 
altars  of  mammon — groves  of  Baal,  shining  Schoe  Dagon — 

[402] 


ST.  ELMO.  403 

set  up  by  business  men  and  women  of  fashion.  Society  ap 
peared  intent  only  upon  reviving  the  offering  to  propitiate 
evil  spirits ;  and  sometimes  it  seemed  thickly  sprinkled  with 
very  thinly  disguised  refugee  Yezidees,  who,  in  the  East, 
openly  worshipped  the  Devil. 

Statesmen  were  almost  extinct  in  America — a  mere  cor 
poral's  guard  remained,  battling  desperately  to  save  the 
stabbed  constitution  from  howling  demagogues  and  fanat 
ics,  who  raved  and  ranted  where  Washington,  Webster, 
and  Calhoun  had  once  swayed  a  free  and  happy  people. 
The  old  venerated  barriers  and  well-guarded  outposts,  which 
decorum  and  true  womanly  modesty  had  erected  on  the 
frontiers  of  propriety,  were  swept  away  in  the  crevasse  of 
sans  souci  manners  that  threatened  to  inundate  the  entire 
land;  and  latitudinarianism  in  dress  and  conversation  was 
rapidly  reducing  the  sexes  to  an  equality,  dangerous  to 
morals  and  subversive  of  all  chivalric  respect  for  woman. 

A  double-faced  idol,  fashion  and  flirtation,  engrossed  the 
homage  of  the  majority  of  females,  while  a  few  misguided 
ones,  weary  of  the  inanity  of  the  mass  of  womanhood  and 
desiring  to  effect  a  reform,  mistook  the  sources  of  the  evil, 
and,  rushing  to  the  opposite  extreme,  demanded  power, 
which  as  a  privilege  they  already  possessed,  but  as  a  right 
could  not  extort. 

A  casual  glance  at  the  surface  of  society  seemed  to  justify 
Burke's  conclusion,  that  "this  earth  is  the  bedlam  of  our 
system" ;  but  Edna  looked  deeper,  and  found  much  that 
encouraged  her,  much  that  warmed  and  bound  her  sym 
pathies  to  her  fellow-creatures.  Instead  of  following  the 
beaten  track  she  struck  out  a  new  path,  and  tried  the  plan 
of  denouncing  the  offence,  not  the  offender ;  of  attacking  the 
sin  while  she  pitied  the  sinner. 

Ruthlessly  she  assaulted  the  darling  follies,  the  pet,  vel 
vet-masked  vices  that  society  had  adopted,  and  called  the 
reading  world  to  a  friendly  parley;  demanding  that  men 
and  women  should  pause  and  reflect  in  their  mad  career. 
Because  she  was  earnest  and  not  bitter,  because  the  white 
banner  of  Christian  charity  floated  over  the  conference 
ground,  because  she  showed  so  clearly  that  she  loved  the 
race  whose  recklessness  grieved  her,  because  her  rebukes 
were  free  from  scorn,  and  written  rather  in  tears  than  gall, 
people  turned  their  heads  and  stopped  to  listen. 


404  ST.  ELMO. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  finally,  after  toiling  over  many 
obstacles,  she  reached  the  vine-clad  valley  of  Eshcol. 

Each  day  brought  her  noble  fruitage,  as  letters  came 
from  all  regions  of  the  country,  asking  for  advice  and 
assistance  in  little  trials  of  which  the  world  knew  nothing. 
Over  the  young  of  her  own  sex  she  held  a  singular  sway ; 
and  orphan  girls  of  all  ranks  and  ages  wrote  of  their  re 
spective  sorrows  and  difficulties,  and  requested  her  kind 
counsel.  To  these  her  womanly  heart  turned  yearningly; 
and  she  accepted  their  affectionate  confidence  as  an  indica 
tion  of  her  proper  circle  of  useful  labor. 

Believing  that  the  intelligent,  refined,  modest  Christian 
women  of  the  United  States  were  the  real  custodians  of 
national  purity,  and  the  sole  agents  who  could  successfully 
arrest  the  tide  of  demoralization  breaking  over  the  land,  she 
addressed  herself  to  the  wives,  mothers,  and  daughters  of 
America;  calling  upon  them  to  smite  their  false  gods,  and 
purify  the  shrines  at  which  they  worshipped.  Jealously  she 
contended  for  every  woman's  right  which  God  and  nature 
had  decreed  the  sex.  The  right  to  be  learned,  wise,  noble, 
useful,  in  woman's  divinely  limited  sphere;  the  right  to  in 
fluence  and  exalt  the  circle  in  which  she  moved;  the  right 
to  mount  the  sanctified  bema  of  her  own  quiet  hearthstcfrie ; 
the  right  to  modify  and  direct  her  husband's  opinions,  if 
he  considered  her  worthy  and  competent  to  guide  him ;  the 
right  to  make  her  children  ornaments  to  their  nation,  and 
a  crown  of  glory  to  their  race ;  the  right  to  advise,  to  plead, 
to  pray;  the  right  to  make  her  desk  a  Delphi,  if  God  so 
permitted ;  the  right  to  be  all  that  the  phrase  "noble,  Chris 
tian  woman"  means.  But  not  the  right  to  vote ;  to  harangue 
from  the  hustings;  to  trail  her  heaven-born  purity  through 
the  dust  and  mire  of  political  strife;  to  ascend  the  rosta  of 
statesmen,  whither  she  may  send  a  worthy  husband,  son,  or 
brother,  but  whither  she  can  never  go,  without  disgracing 
all  womanhood. 

Edna  was  conscious  of  the  influence  she  exerted,  and 
ceaselessly  she  prayed  that  she  might  wield  it  aright.  While 
aware  of  the  prejudice  that  exists  against  literary  women, 
she  endeavored  to  avoid  the  outre  idiosyncrasies  that  justly 
render  so  many  of  that  class  unpopular  and  ridiculous. 

She  felt  that  she  was  a  target  at  which  observers  aimed 
random  shafts;  and  while  devoting  herself  to  study,  she 


ST.  ELMO.  405 

endeavored  to  give  due  attention  to  the  rules  of  etiquette, 
and  the  harmonious  laws  of  the  toilette. 

The  friendship  between  Mr.  Manning  and  herself 
strengthened,  as  each  learned  more  fully  the  character  of 
the  other;  and  an  affectionate,  confiding  frankness  marked 
their  intercourse.  As  her  popularity  increased  she  turned 
to  him  more  frequently  for  advice,  for  success  only  ren 
dered  her  cautious ;  and  day  by  day  she  weighed  more  care 
fully  all  that  fell  from  her  pen,  dreading  lest  some  error 
should  creep  into  her  writings  and  lead  others  astray. 

In  her  publisher — an  honorable,  kind-hearted,  and  gen 
erous  gentleman — she  found  a  valued  friend ;  and  as  her 
book  sold  extensively,  the  hope  of  a  competency  was  real 
ized,  and  she  was  soon  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  teach 
ing.  She  was  a  pet  with  the  reading  public ;  it  became  fash 
ionable  to  lionize  her;  her  pictures  and  autographs  were 
eagerly  sought  after;  and  the  little,  barefooted  Tennessee 
child  had  grown  up  to  celebrity. 

Sometimes,  when  a  basket  of  flowers,  or  a  handsome  book, 
or  a  letter  of  thanks  and  cordial  praise  was  received  from 
an  unknown  reader,  the  young  author  was  so  overwhelmed 
with  grateful  appreciation  of  these  little  tokens  of  kindness 
and  affection,  that  she  wept  over  them,  or  prayed  tremu 
lously  that  she  might  make  herself  more  worthy  of  the  good 
opinion  entertained  of  her  by  strangers. 

Mr.  Manning,  whose  cold,  searching  eye  was  ever  upon 
her,  could  detect  no  exultation  in  her  manner.  She  was 
earnestly  grateful  for  every  kind  word  uttered  by  her 
friends  and  admirers,  for  every  favorable  sentence  penned 
about  her  writings ;  but  she  seemed  only  gravely  glad,  and 
was  as  little  changed  by  praise  as  she  had  been  by  severe 
animadversion.  The  sweet,  patient  expression  still  rested 
on  her  face,  and  her  beautiful  eyes  beamed  with  the  steady 
light  of  resignation  rather  than  the  starry  sparkle  of  ex 
travagant  joy. 

Sometimes  when  the  editor  missed  her  at  the  literary  re 
unions,  where  her  presence  always  contributed  largely  to 
the  enjoyment  of  the  evening,  and  sought  her  in  the  school 
room,  he  was  often  surprised  to  find  her  seated  beside  Felix, 
reading  to  him  or  listening  to  his  conversation  with  a  degree 
of  interest  which  she  did  not  always  offer  to  the  celebrities 
who  visited  her. 


406  ST.  ELMO. 

Her  power  over  the  cripple  was  boundless.  His  character 
was  as  clay  in  her  hands,  and  she  was  faithfully  striving  to 
model  a  noble,  hallowed  life;  for  she  believed  that  he  was 
destined  to  achieve  distinction,  and  fondly  hoped  to  stamp 
upon  his  mind  principles  and  aims  that  would  fructify 
abundantly  when  she  was  silent  in  the  grave. 

Mrs.  Andrews  often  told  her  that  she  was  the  only  per 
son  who  had  ever  controlled  or  influenced  the  boy — that  she 
could  make  him  just  what  she  pleased;  and  she  devoted  her 
self  to  him,  resolved  to  spare  no  toil  in  her  efforts  to 
correct  the  evil  tendencies  of  his  strong,  obstinate,  stormy 
nature. 

His  fondness  for  history,  and  for  all  that  involved 
theories  of  government,  led  his  governess  to  hope  that  at 
some  future  day  he  might  recruit  the  depleted  ranks  of 
statesmen — that  he  might  reflect  lustre  upon  his  country ;  and 
with  this  trust  spurring  her  ever  one,  she  became  more  and 
more  absorbed  in  her  schemes  for  developing  his  intellect 
and  sanctifying  his  heart.  People  wondered  how  the  lovely 
woman,  whom  society  flattered  and  feted,  could  voluntarily 
shut  herself  up  in  a  schoolroom,  and  few  understood  the 
sympathy  which  bound  her  so  firmly  to  the  broad-browed, 
sallow  little  cripple. 

One  December  day,  several  months  after  their  return 
from  the  seaside,  Edna  and  Felix  sat  in  the  library.  The 
boy  had  just  completed  Prescott's  "Philip  II.,"  and  the  gov 
erness  had  promised  to  read  to  him  Schiller's  "Don  Carlos" 
and  Goethe's  "Egmont,"  in  order  to  impress  upon  his  mem 
ory  the  great  actors  of  the  Netherland  revolution.  She  took 
up  the  copy  of  "Don  Carlos,"  and  crossing  his  arms  on  the 
top  of  his  crutches,  as  was  his  habit,  the  pupil  fixed  his 
eyes  on  her  face. 

The  reading  had  continued  probably  a  half-hour,  when 
Felix  heard  a  whisper  at  the  door,  and,  looking  over  his 
shoulder,  saw  a  stranger  standing  on  the  threshold.  He 
rose ;  the  movement  attracted  the  attention  of  the  governess, 
and,  as  she  looked  up,  a  cry  of  joy  rang  through  the  room. 
She  dropped  the  book  and  sprang  forward  with  open  arms. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Murray!  dear  friend!" 

For  some  moments  they  stood  locked  in  a  warm  embrace, 
and  as  Felix  limped  out  of  the  room  he  heard  his  governess 
gobbing. 


ST.  ELMO.  407 

Mrs.  Murray  held  the  girl  at  arm's  length,  and  as  she 
looked  at  the  wan,  thin  face,  she  exclaimed : 

"My  poor  Edna !  my  dear  little  girl !  why  did  not  you  tell 
me  you  were  ill?  You  are  a  mere  ghost  of  your  former 
self.  My  child,  why  did  you  not  come  home  long  ago?  I 
should  have  been  here  a  month  earlier,  but  was  detained  by 
Estelle's  marriage. 

Edna  looked  vacantly  at  her  benefactress,  and  her  lips 
whitened  as  she  asked : 

"Did  you  say  Estelle — was  married  ?" 

"Yes,  my  dear.  She  is  now  in  New  York  with  her  hus 
band.  They  are  going  to  Paris " 

"She  married  your "  The  head  fell  forward  on  Mrs. 

Murray's  bosom,  and  as  in  a  dream  she  heard  the  an 
swer: 

"Estelle  married  that  young  Frenchman,  Victor  De  Sans- 
sure,  whom  she  met  in  Europe.  Edna,  what  is  the  matter? 
My  child !" 

She  found  that  she  could  not  rouse  her,  and  in  great 
alarm  called  for  assistance. 

Mrs.  Andrews  promptly  resorted  to  the  remedies  advised 
by  Dr.  Howell ;  but  it  was  long  before  Edna  fully  recov 
ered,  and  then  she  lay  with  her  eyes  closed,  and  her  hands 
clasped  across  her  forehead. 

Mrs.  Murray  sat  beside  the  sofa  weeping  silently,  while 
Mrs.  Andrews  briefly  acquainted  her  with  the  circumstances 
attending  former  attacks.  When  the  latter  was  sum 
moned  from  the  room  and  all  was  quiet,  Edna  looked  up 
at  Mrs.  Murray,  and  tears  rolled  over  her  cheeks  as  she 
said : 

"I  was  so  glad  to  see  you,  the  great  joy  and  the  surprise 
overcame  me.  I  am  not  as  strong  as  I  used  to  be  in  the  old 
happy  days  at  Le  Bocage,  but  after  a  little  I  shall  be  myself. 
It  is  only  occasionally  that  I  have  these  attacks  of  faint- 
ness.  Put  your  hand  on  my  forehead,  as  you  did  years 
ago,  and  let  me  think  that  I  am  a  little  child  again.  Oh, 
the  unspeakable  happiness  of  being  with  you  once  more!" 

"Hush !  do  not  talk  now,  you  are  not  strong  enough !" 

Mrs.  Murray  kissed  her.  and  tenderly  smoothed  the  hair 
back  from  her  blue-veined  temples,  where  the  blood  still 
fluttered  irregularly. 

For  some  minutes  the  girl's  eyes  wandered  eagerly  over 


4o8  ST.  ELMO. 

her  companion's  countenance,  tracing  there  the  outlines  of 
another  and  far  dearer  face,  and  finding  a  resemblance  be 
tween  mother  and  son  which  she  had  never  noticed  before. 
Then  she  closed  her  eyes  again,  and  a  half  smile  curved 
her  trembling  mouth,  for  the  voice  and  the  touch  of  the 
hand  seemed  indeed  Mr.  Murray's. 

"Edna,  I  shall  never  forgive  you  for  not  writing  to  me, 
telling  me  frankly  of  your  failing  health." 

"Oh!  scold  me  as  much  as  you  please.  It  is  a  luxury  to 
hear  your  voice  even  in  reproof." 

"I  knew  mischief  would  come  of  this  separation  from  me. 
You  belong  to  me,  and  I  mean  to  have  my  own,  and  take 
proper  care  of  you  in  future.  The  idea  of  your  working 
yourself  to  a  skeleton  for  the  amusement  of  those  who  care 
nothing  about  you  is  simply  preposterous,  and  I  intend  to 
put  an  end  to  such  nonsense." 

"Mrs.  Murray,  why  have  you  not  mentioned  Mr.  Ham 
mond?  I  almost  dread  to  ask  about  him." 

"Because  you  do  not  deserve  to  hear  from  him.  A  grate 
ful  and  affectionate  pupil  you  have  proved,  to  be  sure.  Oh, 
Edna!  what  has  come  over  you,  child?  Are  you  so  intoxi 
cated  with  your  triumphs  that  you  utterly  forget  your  old 
friends,  who  loved  you  when  you  were  unknown  to  the 
world?  At  first  I  thought  so.  I  believed  that  you  were 
heartless,  like  all  of  your  class,  and  completely  wrapped  up 
in  ambitious  schemes.  But,  my  little  darling,  I  see  I 
wronged  you.  Your  poor  white  face  reproaches  me  for  my 
injustice,  and  I  feel  that  success  has  not  spoiled  you;  that 
you  are  still  my  little  Edna — my  sweet  child — my  daughter. 
Be  quiet  now,  and  listen  to  me,  and  try  to  keep  that  flutter 
out  of  your  lips.  Mr.  Hammond  is  no  worse  than  he  has 
been  for  many  months,  but  he  is  very  feeble,  and  can  not 
live  much  longer.  You  know  very  well  that  he  loves  you 
tenderly,  and  he  says  he  can  not  die  in  peace  without  seeing 
you  once  more.  Every  day,  when  I  go  over  to  the  parson 
age,  his  first  question  is,  'Ellen,  is  she  coming? — have  you 
heard  from  her?'  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  him  when 
St.  Elmo  was  reading  your  book  to  him.  It  was  the  copy 
you  sent;  and  when  we  read  aloud  the  joint  dedication  to 
him  and  to  myself,  the  old  man  wept,  and  asked  for  his 
glasses,  and  tried  to  read  it,  but  could  not.  He " 

Edna  put  out  her  hand  with  a  mute  gesture,  which  her 


ST.  ELMO.  409 

friend  well  understood,  and  she  paused  and  was  silent; 
while  the  governess  turned  her  face  to  the  wall  and  wept 
softly,  trying  to  compose  herself. 

Ten  minutes  passed,  and  she  said:  "Please  go  on  now, 
Mrs.  Murray,  and  tell  me  all  he  said.  You  can  have  no 
idea  how  I  have  longed  to  know  what  you  all  at  home 
thought  of  my  little  book.  Oh!  I  have  been  so  hungry  for 
home  praise !  I  sent  the  very  earliest  copies  to  you  and 
to  Mr.  Hammond,  and  I  thought  it  so  hard  that  you  never 
mentioned  them  at  all." 

"My  dear,  it  was  my  fault,  and  I  confess  it  freely.  Mr. 
Hammond,  of  course,  could  not  write,  but  he  trusted  to 
me  to  thank  you  in  his  name  for  the  book  and  the  dedica 
tion.  I  was  really  angry  with  you  for  not  coming  home 
when  I  wrote  for  you;  and  I  was  jealous  of  your  book,  and 
would  not  praise  it,  because  I  knew  you  expected  it.  But 
because  I  was  silent,  do  you  suppose  I  was  not  proud  of 
my  little  girl?  If  you  could  have  seen  the  tears  I  shed 
over  some  of  the  eulogies  pronounced  upon  you,  and  heard 
all  the  ugly  words  I  could  not  avoid  uttering  against  some 
of  your  critics,  you  could  not  doubt  my  thorough  apprecia 
tion  of  your  success.  My  dear,  it  is  impossible  to  describe 
Mr.  Hammond's  delight,  as  we  read  your  novel  to  him. 
Often  he  would  say:  'St.  Elmo,  read  that  passage  again.  I 
knew  she  was  a  gifted  child,  but  I  did  not  expect  that  she 
would  ever  write  such  a  book  as  this.'  When  we  read  the 
last  chapter  he  was  completely  overcome,  and  said,  repeat 
edly,  'God  bless  my  little  Edna!  It  is  a  noble  book,  it  will 
do  good — much  good !'  To  me  it  seems  almost  incredible 
that  the  popular  author  is  the  same  little  lame,  crushed 
orphan,  whom  I  lifted  from  the  grass  at  the  railroad  track, 
seven  years  ago." 

Edna  had  risen,  and  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  sofa, 
with  one  hand  supporting  her  cheek,  and  a  tender,  glad 
smile  shining  over  her  features,  as  she  listened  to  the  com 
mendation  of  those  dearer  than  all  the  world  beside.  Mrs. 
Murray  watched  her  anxiously,  and  sighed,  as  she  con 
tinued  : 

"If  ever  a  woman  had  a  worshipper,  you  certainly  pos 
sess  one  in  Iluidah  Reed.  It  would  be  amusing,  if  it  were 
not  touching,  to  see  her  bending  in  ecstasy  over  everything 
you  write;  over  every  notice  of  you  that  meets  her  eye. 


4io 


ST.  ELMO. 


She  regards  you  as  her  model  in  all  respects.  You  would 
be  surprised  at  the  rapidity  with  which  she  acquires  knowl 
edge.  She  is  a  pet  of  St.  Elmo's,  and  repays  his  care  and 
kindness  with  a  devotion  that  makes  people  stare;  for  you 
know  my  son  is  regarded  as  an  ogre,  and  the  child's  affec 
tion  for  him  seems  incomprehensible  to  those  who  only  see 
the  rough  surface  of  his  character.  She  never  saw  a  frown 
on  his  face  or  heard  a  harsh  word  from  him,  for  he  is 
strangely  tender  in  his  treatment  of  the  little  thing.  Some 
times  it  makes  me  start  when  I  hear  her  merry  laugh  ring 
ing  through  the  house,  for  the  sound  carries  me  far  back 
into  the  past,  when  my  own  children  romped  and  shouted 
at  Le  Bocage.  You  were  always  a  quiet,  demure,  and  rather 
solemn  child;  but  this  Huldah  is  a  gay  little  sprite.  St. 
Elmo  is  so  astonishingly  patient  with  her,  that  Estelle  ac 
cuses  him  of  being  in  his  dotage.  Oh,  Edna !  it  would  make 
you  glad  to  see  my  son  and  that  orphan  child  sitting  to 
gether  reading  the  Bible.  Last  week  I  found  them  in  the 
library;  she  was  fast  asleep  with  her  head  on  his  knee,  and 
he  sat  with  his  open  Bible  in  his  hand.  He  is  so  changed 
in  his  manner  that  you  would  scarcely  know  him,  and  oh! 
I  am  so  happy  and  so  grateful,  I  can  never  thank  God  suf 
ficiently  for  the  blessing!" 

Mrs.  Murray  sobbed,  and  Edna  bent  her  own  head  lower 
in  her  palms. 

For  some  seconds  both  were  silent.  Mrs.  Murray  seated 
herself  close  to  the  governess,  and  clasped  her  arms  around 
her. 

"Edna,  why  did  you  not  tell  me  all?  Why  did  you  leave 
me  to  find  out  by  accident  that  which  should  have  been 
confided  to  me  ?" 

The  girl  trembled,  and  a  fiery  spot  burned  on  her  cheeks 
as  she  pressed  her  forehead  against  Mrs.  Murray's  bosom, 
and  said  hastily: 

"To  what  do  you  allude?" 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  that  my  son  loved  you,  and 
wished  to  make  you  his  wife?  I  never  knew  what  passed 
between  you  until  about  a  month  ago,  and  then  I  learned 
it  from  Mr.  Hammond.  Although  I  wondered  why  St. 
Elmo  went  as  far  as  Chattanooga  with  you  on  your  way 
North,  I  did  not  suspect  any  special  interest,  for  his  man 
ner  betrayed  none  when,  after  his  return,  he  merely  said 


ST.  ELMO.  4II 

that  he  found  no  one  on  the  train  to  whose  care  he  could 
commit  you.  Now  I  know  all — know  why  you  left  Le 
Bocage;  and  I  know,  too,  that  in  God's  hands  you  have 
been  the  instrument  of  bringing  St.  Elmo  back  to  his  duty — 
to  his  old  noble  self !  Oh !  Edna,  my  child !  if  you  could 
know  how  I  love  and  thank  you !  How  I  long  to  fold  you 
in  my  arms — so !  and  call  you  my  daughter !  Edna  Mur 
ray — St.  Elmo's  wife!  Ah!  how  proud  I  shall  be  of  my 
own  daughter!  When  I  took  a  little  bruised,  moaning, 
homespun-clad  girl  into  my  house,  how  little  I  dreamed 
that  I  was  sheltering  unawares  the  angel  who  was  to  bring 
back  happiness  to  my  son's  heart,  and  peace  to  my  own !" 

She  lifted  the  burning  face,  and  kissed  the  quivering  lips 
repeatedly. 

"Edna,  my  brave  darling!  how  could  you  resist  St.  Elmo's 
pleading?  How  could  you  tear  yourself  away  from  him? 
Was  it  because  you  feared  that  I  would  not  willingly  re 
ceive  you  as  a  daughter?  Do  not  shiver  so — answer  me." 

"Oh !  do  not  ask  me !  Mrs.  Murray,  spare  me !  This  is  a 
subject  which  I  cannot  discuss  with  you." 

"Why  not,  my  child?  Can  you  not  trust  the  mother  of 
the  man  you  love?" 

Edna  unwound  the  arms  that  clasped  her,  and  rising, 
walked  away  to  the  mantelpiece.  Leaning  heavily  against 
it,  she  stood  for  some  time  with  her  face  averted,  and  be 
neath  the  veil  of  long,  floating  hair  Mrs.  Murray  saw  the 
slight  figure  sway  to  and  fro,  like  a  reed  shaken  by  the 
breeze. 

"Edna,  I  must  talk  to  you  about  a  matter  which  alone 
brought  me  to  New  York.  My  son's  happiness  is  dearer  to 
me  than  my  life,  and  I  have  come  to  plead  with  you,  for  his 
sake,  if  not  for  your  own,  at  least  to " 

"It  is  useless !  Do  not  mention  his  name  again !  Oh, 
Mrs.  Murray !  I  am  feeble  to-day ;  spare  me !  Have  mercy 
on  my  weakness!" 

She  put  out  her  hand  appealingly,  but  in  vain. 

"One  thing  you  must  tell  me.    Why  did  you  reject  him?" 

"Because  I  could  not  respect  his  character.  Oh !  forgive 
me !  You  force  me  to  say  it — because  I  knew  that  he  was 
unworthy  of  any  woman's  confidence  and  affection." 

The  mother's   face   flushed   angrily,   and   she   rose   and 


412 


ST.  ELMO. 


threw  her  head  back  with  the  haughty  defiance  peculiar  to 
her  family. 

"Edna  Earl,  how  dare  you  speak  to  me  in  such  terms  of 
my  own  son?  There  is  not  a  woman  on  the  face  of  the 
broad  earth  who  ought  not  to  feel  honored  by  his  prefer 
ence — who  might  not  be  proud  of  his  hand.  What  right 
have  you  to  pronounce  him  unworthy  of  trust?  Answer 
me!" 

"The  right  to  judge  him  from  his  own  account  of  his 
past  life.  The  history  which  he  gave  me  condemns  him. 
His  crimes  make  me  shrink  from  him." 

"Crimes?  take  care,  Edna!  You  must  be  beside  your 
self!  My  son  is  no  criminal!  He  was  unfortunate  and 
rash,  but  his  impetuosity  was  certainly  pardonable  under 
the  circumstances." 

"All  things  are  susceptible  of  palliation  in  a  mother's 
partial  eyes,"  answered  the  governess. 

"St.  Elmo  fought  a  duel,  and  afterward  carried  on  sev 
eral  flirtations  with  women  who  were  weak  enough  to  allow 
themselves  to  be  trifled  with;  moreover,  I  shall  not  dery 
that  at  one  period  of  his  life  he  was  lamentably  dissipated ; 
but  all  that  happened  long  ago,  before  you  knew  him.  How 
many  young  gentlemen  indulge  in  the  same  things,  and 
are  never  even  reprimanded  by  society,  much  less  de 
nounced  as  criminals?  The  world  sanctions  duelling  and 
flirting,  and  you  have  no  right  to  set  your  extremely  rigid 
notions  of  propriety  above  the  verdict  of  modern  society. 
Custom  justifies  many  things  which  you  seem  to  hold  in 
utter  abhorrence.  Take  care  that  you  do  not  find  yourself 
playing  the  Pharisee  on  the  street  corners." 

Mrs.  Murray  walked  up  and  down  the  room  twice,  then 
came  to  the  hearth. 

"Well,  Edna,  I  am  waiting  to  hear  you." 

"There  is  nothing  that  I  can  say  which  would  not  wound 
or  displease  you ;  therefore,  dear  Mrs.  Murray,  I  must  be 
silent." 

"Retract  the  hasty  words  you  uttered  just  now;  they  ex 
press  more  than  you  intended." 

"I  cannot!  I  mean  all  I  said.  Offences  against  God's 
law,  which  you  consider  pardonable — and  which  the  world 
winks  at  and  permits,  and  even  defends — I  regard  as  griev- 


ST.  ELMO.  413 

ous  sins.  I  believe  that  every  man  who  kills  another  in  a 
duel  deserves  the  curse  of  Cain,  and  should  be  shunned  as 
a  murderer.  My  conscience  assures  me  that  a  man  who 
can  deliberately  seek  to  gain  a  woman's  heart  merely  to 
gratify  his  vanity,  or  to  wreak  his  hate  by  holding  her  up 
to  scorn,  or  trifling  with  the  love  which  he  has  won,  is  un 
principled,  and  should  be  ostracized  by  every  true  woman. 
Were  you  the  mother  of  Murray  and  Annie  Hammond,  do- 
you  think  you  could  so  easily  forgive  this  murderer  ?" 

"Their  father  forgives  and  trusts  my  son,  and  you  have 
no  right  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  him.  Do  you  suppose  that 
you  are  holier  than  that  white-haired  saint  whose  crown  of 
glory  is  waiting  for  him  in  heaven??  Are  you  so  much 
purer  than  Allan  Hammond  that  you  fear  contamination 
from  one  to  whom  he  clings?" 

"No — no — no !  You  wrong  me !  If  you  could  know  how 
humble  is  my  estimate  of  myself,  you  would  not  taunt  me 
so  cruelly ;  you  would  only — pity  me !" 

The  despairing  agony  in  the  orphan's  voice  touched  Mrs. 
Murray's  proud  heart,  and  tears  softened  the  indignant  ex 
pression  of  her  eyes,  as  she  looked  at  the  feeble  form  before 
her. 

"Edna,  my  poor  child,  you  must  trust  me.  One  thing  I 
must  know — I  have  a  right  to  ask — do  you  not  love  my  son  ? 
You  need  not  blush  to  acknowledge  it  to  me." 

She  waited  awhile,  but  there  was  no  reply,  and  softly  her 
arm  stole  around  the  girl's  waist. 

"My  daughter,  you  need  not  be  ashamed  of  your  affec 
tion  for  St.  Elmo." 

Edna  lifted  her  face  from  the  mantel,  and  clasping  her 
hands  across  her  head,  exclaimed: 

"Do  I  love  him  ?  Oh !  none  but  God  can  ever  know  how 
entirely  my  heart  is  his!  I  have  struggled  against  his  fas 
cination — oh !  indeed  I  have  wrestled  and  prayed  against  it ! 
But  to-day — I  do  not  deceive  myself — I  feel  that  I  love  him 
as  I  can  never  love  any  other  human  being.  You  are  his 
mother,  and  you  will  pity  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  fall 
asleep  praying  for  him — that  in  my  dreams  I  am  with  him 
once  more — that  the  first  thought  on  waking  is  still  of  him. 
What  do  you  suppose  it  cost  me  to  give  him  up  ?  Oh !  is  it 


414 


ST.  ELMO. 


hard,  think  you,  to  live  in  the  same  world  and  yet  never 
look  on  his  face,  never  hear  his  voice?  God  only  knows 
how  hard!  If  he  were  dead,  I  could  bear  it  better.  But, 
ah!  to  live  with  this  great  sea  of  silence  between  us — a 
dreary,  cold,  mocking  sea,  crossed  by  no  word,  no  whisper, 
filled  only  with  slowly,  sadly  sailing  ghosts  of  precious 
memories !  Yes,  yes !  despite  all  his  unworthiness — despite 
the  verdict  of  my  judgment,  and  the  upbraiding  of  my  con 
science — I  love  him !  I  love  him !  You  can  sympathize  with 
me.  Do  not  reproach  me;  pity  me,  oh!  pity  me  in  my 
feebleness !" 

She  put  out  her  arms  like  a  weary  child  and  dropped  her 
face  on  Mrs.  Murray's  shoulder. 

"My  child,  if  you  had  seen  him  the  night  before  I  left 
home,  you  could  not  have  resisted  any  longer  the  prompt 
ings  of  your  own  heart.  He  told  me  all  that  had  ever  passed 
between  you;  how  he  had  watched  and  tempted  you;  how 
devotedly  he  loved  you;  how  he  reverenced  your  purity  of 
character;  how  your  influence,  your  example,  had  first 
called  him  back  to  his  early  faith ;  and  then  he  covered  his 
face  and  said,  'Mother!  mother!  if  God  would  only  give  her 
to  me,  I  could,  I  would  be  a  better  man !'  Edna,  I  feel  as  if 
my  son's  soul  rested  in  your  hands!  If  you  throw  him  off 
utterly,  he  may  grow  desperate,  and  go  back  to  his  old 
habits  of  reckless  dissipation  and  blasphemy;  and  if  he 
should !  oh !  if  he  is  lost  at  last,  I  will  hold  you  accountable, 
and  charge  you  before  God  with  his  destruction !  Edna, 
beware!  You  have  a  strange  power  over  him;  you  can 
make  him  almost  what  you  will.  If  you  will  not  listen  to 
your  own  suffering  heart,  or  to  his  love,  hear  me !  Hear  a 
mother  pleading  for  her  son's  eternal  safety!" 

The  haughty  woman  fell  on  her  knees  before  the  orphan 
and  wept,  and  Edna  instantly  knelt  beside  her  and  clung  to 
her. 

"I  pray  for  him  continually.  My  latest  breath  shall  be  a 
prayer  for  his  salvation.  His  eternal  welfare  is  almost  as1 
precious  to  me  as  my  own;  for  if  I  get  to  heaven  at  last, 
do  you  suppose  I  could  be  happy  even  there  without  him? 
But,  Mrs.  Murray,  I  can  not  be  his  wife.  If  he  is  indeed 
conscientiously  striving  to  atone  for  his  past  life,  he  will  be 


ST.  ELMO. 


415 


saved  without  my  influence ;  and  if  his  remorseful  convic 
tions  of  duty  do  not  reform  him,  his  affection  for  me  would 
not  accomplish  it.  Oh!  of  all  mournful  lots  in  life,  I  think 
mine  is  the  saddest !  To  find  it  impossible  to  tear  my  heart 
from  a  man  whom  I  distrust,  whom  1  can  not  honor,  whose 
fascination  I  dread.  I  know  my  duty  in  this  matter — my 
conscience  leaves  me  no  room  to  doubt — and  from  the  reso 
lution  which  I  made  in  sight  of  Annie's  grave,  I  must  not 
swerve.  I  have  confessed  to  you  how  completely  my  love 
belongs  to  him,  how  fruitless  are  my  efforts  to  forget  him. 
I  have  told  you  what  bitter  suffering  our  separation  costs 
me,  that  you  may  know  how  useless  it  is  for  you  to  urge  me. 
Ah!  if  I  can  withstand  the  wailing  of  my  own  lonely,  aching 
heart,  there  is  nothing  else  that  can  draw  me  from  the  path 
of  duty ;  no,  no !  not  even  your  entreaties,  dear  Mrs.  Murray, 
much  as  I  love  and  owe  you.  God,  who  alone  sees  all,  will 
help  me  to  bear  my  loneliness.  He  only  can  comfort  and 
sustain  me;  and  in  His  own  good  time  He  will  save  Mr. 
Murray,  and  send  peace  into  his  troubled  soul.  Until  then, 
let  us  pray  patiently." 

Flush  and  tremor  had  passed  away,  the  features  were 
locked  in  rigid  whiteness ;  and  the  unhappy  mother  saw  that 
further  entreaty  would  indeed  be  fruitless. 

She  rose  and  paced  the  floor  for  some  moments.  At  last 
Edna  said : 

"How  long  will  you  remain  in  New  York  ?" 

"Two  days.  Edna,  I  came  here  against  my  son's  advice, 
in  opposition  to  his  wishes,  to  intercede  in  his  behalf  and 
to  prevail  on  you  to  go  home  with  me.  He  knew  you  better 
it  seems  than  I  did ;  for  he  predicted  the  result,  and  desired 
to  save  me  from  mortification ;  but  I  obstinately  clung  to 
the  belief  that  you  cherish  some  feeling  of  affectionate 
gratitude  toward  me.  You  have  undeceived  me.  Mr. 
Hammond  is  eagerly  expecting  you,  and  it  will  be  a  keen 
disappointment  to  the  old  man  if  I  return  without  you.  Is 
it  useless  to  tell  you  that  you  ought  to  go  and  see  him? 
You  need  not  hesitate  on  St.  Elmo's  account ;  for  unless  you 
wish  to  meet  him,  you  will  certainly  not  see  him.  My  son  is 
too  proud  to  thrust  himself  into  the  presence  of  any  one, 
much  less  into  yours,  Edna  Earl." 

"I  will  go  with  you,  Mrs.  Murray,  and  remain  at  the  par 
sonage — at  least  for  a  few  weeks." 


416  ST.  ELMO. 

"I  scarcely  think  Mr.  Hammond  will  live  until  spring; 
and  it  will  make  him  very  happy  to  have  you  in  his  home." 

Mrs.  Murray  wrapped  her  shawl  around  her  and  put  on 
her  gloves. 

"I  shall  be  engaged  with  Estelle  while  I  am  here,  and 
shall  not  call  again ;  but  of  course  you  will  come  to  the 
hotel  to  see  her,  and  we  will  start  homeward  day  after  to 
morrow  evening." 

She  turned  toward  the  door,  but  Edna  caught  her  dress. 

"Mrs.  Murray,  kiss  me  before  you  go,  and  tell  me  you 
forgive  the  sorrow  I  am  obliged  to  cause  you  to-day.  My 
burden  is  heavy  enough  without  the  weight  of  your  dis 
pleasure." 

But  the  proud  face  did  not  relax ;  the  mother  shook  her 
head,  disengaged  her  dress,  and  left  the  room. 

An  hour  after  Felix  came  in,  and  approaching  the  sofa 
where  his  governess  rested,  said  vehemently: 

"Is  it  true,  Edna?  Are  you  going  South  with  Mrs. 
Murray  ?" 

"Yes;  I  am  going  to  see  a  dear  friend  who  is  probably 
dying." 

"Oh,  Edna!  what  will  become  of  me?" 

"I  shall  be  absent  only  a  few  weeks " 

"I  have  a  horrible  dread  that  if  you  go  you  will  never 
come  back!  Don't  leave  me!  Nobody  needs  you  half  as 
much  as  I  do.  Edna,  you  said  once  you  would  never  for 
sake  me.  Remember  your  promise !" 

"My  dear  little  boy,  I  am  not  forsaking  you ;  I  shall  only 
be  separated  from  you  for  a  month  or  two;  and  it  is  my 
duty  to  go  to  my  sick  friend.  Do  not  look  so  wretched! 
for  just  so  surely  as  I  live,  I  shall  come  back  to  you." 

"You  think  so  now ;  but  your  old  friends  will  persuade 
you  to  stay,  and  you  will  forget  me,  and — and " 

He  turned  around  and  hid  his  face  on  the  back  of  his 
chair. 

It  was  in  vain  that  she  endeavored,  by  promises  and 
caresses,  to  reconcile  him  to  her  temporary  absence.  He 
would  not  be  comforted ;  and  his  tear-stained,  woe-begone, 
sallow  face,  as  she  saw  it  on  the  evening  of  her  departure, 
pursued  her  on  her  journey  South. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE  mocking-bird  sang  as  of  old  in  the  myrtle-boughs 
that  shaded  the  study-window,  and  within  the  parsonage 
reigned  the  peaceful  repose  which  seemed  ever  to  rest  like 
a  benediction  upon  it.  A  ray  of  sunshine  stealing  through 
the  myrtle-leaves  made  golden  ripples  on  the  wall ;  a  bright 
wood-fire  blazed  in  the  wide,  deep,  old-fashioned  chimney; 
the  white  cat  slept  on  the  rug,  with  her  pink  paws  turned 
toward  the  crackling  flames;  and  blue  and  white  hyacinths 
hung  their  fragrant  bells  over  the  gilded  edge  of  the  vases 
on  the  mantelpiece.  Huldah  sat  on  one  side  of  the  hearth 
peeling  a  red  apple;  and,  snugly  wrapped  in  his  palm-leaf 
cashmere  dressing-gown,  Mr.  Hammond  rested  in  his 
cushioned  easy-chair,  with  his  head  thrown  far  back,  and 
his  fingers  clasping  a  large  bunch  of  his  favorite  violets. 
His  snowy  hair  drifted  away  from  a  face  thin  and  pale,  but 
serene  and  happy,  and  in  his  bright  blue  eyes  there  was  a 
humorous  twinkle,  and  on  his  lips  a  half -smothered  smile, 
as  he  listened  to  the  witticisms  of  his  Scotch  countrymen  in 
"Noctes  Ambrosianse." 

Close  to  his  chair  sat  Edna,  reading  aloud  from  the  quaint 
and  inimitable  book  he  loved  so  well,  and  pausing  now  and 
then  to  explain  some  word  which  Huldah  did  not  under 
stand,  or  to  watch  for  symptoms  of  weariness  in  the  counte 
nance  of  the  invalid. 

The  three  faces  contrasted  vividly  in  the  ruddy  glow  of 
the  fire.  That  of  the  little  girl,  round,  rosy,  red-lipped, 
dimpled,  merry-eyed ;  the  aged  pastor's  wrinkled  cheeks  and 
furrowed  brow  and  streaming  silver  beard ;  and  the  carved- 
ivory  features  of  the  governess,  borrowing  no  color  from 
the  soft  folds  of  her  rich  merino  dress.  As  daylight  ebbed, 
the  ripple  danced  up  to  the  ceiling  and  vanished,  like  the 
pricked  bubble  of  a  human  hope;  the  mocking-bird  hushed 
his  vesper-hymn ;  and  Edna  closed  the  book  and  replaced  it 
on  the  shelf. 

[417] 


418  ST.  ELMO. 

Huldah  tied  on  her  scarlet-lined  hood,  kissed  her  friends 
good-bye,  and  went  back  to  Le  Bocage ;  and  the  old  man  and 
the  orphan  sat  looking  at  the  grotesque  flicker  of  the  flames 
on  the  burnished  andirons. 

"Edna,  are  you  tired,  or  can  you  sing  some  for  me?" 
"Reading  aloud  rarely  fatigues  me.    What  shall  I  sing?" 
"That  solemn,  weird  thing  in  the  'Prophet,'  which  suits 
your  voice  so  well." 

She  san  'Ah,  man  fils!"  and  then,  without  waiting  for 
the  request  which  she  knew  would  follow,  gave  him  some  of 
his  favorite  Scotch  songs. 

As  the  last  sweet  strains  of  "Mary  of  Argyle"  echoed 
through  the  study,  the  pastor  shut  his  eyes,  and  memory 
flew  back  to  the  early  years  when  his  own  wife  Mary  had 
sung  those  words  in  that  room,  and  his  dead  darlings  clus 
tered  eagerly  around  the  piano  to  listen  to  their  mother's 
music.  Five  fair-browed,  innocent  young  faces  circling 
about  the  idolized  wife,  and  baby  Annie  nestling  in  her' 
cradle  beside  the  hearth,  playing  with  her  waxen  fingers  and 
crowing  softly.  Death  had  stolen  his  household  jewels;  but 
recollection  robbed  the  grave,  and  music's  magic  touch  un 
sealed  "memory's  golden  urn." 

"  Oh  !  death  in  life,  the  days  that  are  no  more !  " 

Edna  thought  he  had  fallen  asleep,  he  was  so  still,  his  face 
was  so  placid;  and  she  came  softly  back  to  her  chair  and 
looked  at  the  ruby  temples  and  towers,  the  glittering  domes 
and  ash-gray  ruined  arcades  built  by  the  oak  coals. 

A  month  had  elapsed  since  her  arrival  at  the  parsonage, 
and  during  that  short  period  Mr.  Hammond  had  rallied  and 
recovered  his  strength  so  unexpectedly  that  hopes  were  en 
tertained  of  his  entire  restoration;  and  he  spoke  confidently 
of  being  able  to  reenter  his  pulpit  on  Easter  Sunday. 

The  society  of  his  favorite  pupil  seemed  to  render  him 
completely  happy,  and  his  countenance  shone  in  the  blessed 
light  that  gladdened  his  heart.  After  a  long,  dark,  stormy 
day,  the  sun  of  his  life  was  preparing  to  set  in  cloudless 
peace  and  glory. 

Into  all  of  Edna's  literary  schemes  he  entered  eagerly. 
She  read  to  him  the  MS.  of  her  new  book  as  far  as  it  was 


ST.  ELMO.  419 

written,  and  was  gratified  by  his  perfect  satisfaction  with 
the  style,  plot,  and  aim. 

Mrs.  Murray  came  every  day  to  the  parsonage,  but  Edna 
had  not  visited  Le  Bocage ;  and  though  Mr.  Murray  spent 
two  mornings  of  each  week  with  Mr.  Hammond,  he  called 
at  stated  hours,  and  she  had  not  yet  met  him.  Twice  she 
had  heard  his  voice  in  earnest  conversation,  and  several 
times  she  had  seen  his  tall  figure  coming  up  the  walk,  but 
of  his  features  she  caught  not  even  a  glimpse.  St.  Elmo's 
name  had  never  been  mentioned  in  her  presence  by  either 
his  mother  or  the  pastor,  but  Huldah  talked  ceaselessly  of 
his  kindness  to  her.  Knowing  the  days  on  which  he  came 
to  the  parsonage,  Edna  always  absented  herself  from  the 
invalid'afroom  until  the  visit  was  over. 

One  afternoon  she  went  to  the  church  to  play  on  the 
organ;  and  after  an  hour  of  mournful  enjoyment  in  the 
gallery  so  fraught  with  precious  reminiscences,  she  left  the 
church  and  found  Tamerlane  tied  to  the  iron  gate,  but  his 
master  was  not  visible.  She  knew  that  he  was  somewhere 
in  the  building  or  yard,  and  denied  herself  the  pleasure  of 
going  there  a  second  time. 

Neither  glance  nor  word  had  been  exchanged  since  they 
parted  at  the  railroad  station,  eighteen  months  before.  She 
longed  to  know  his  opinion  of  her  book,  for  many  passages 
had  been  written  with  special  reference  to  his  perusal ;  but 
she  would  not  ask ;  and  it  was  a  sore  trial  to  sit  in  one  room, 
hearing  the  low,  indistinct  murmur  of  his  voice  in  the  next, 
and  yet  never  to  see  him. 

Few  women  could  have  withstood  the  temptation ;  but 
the  orphan  dreaded  his  singular  power  over  her  heart,  and 
dared  not  trust  herself  in  his  presence. 

This  evening,  as  she  sat  with  the  firelight  shining  on  her 
face,  thinking  of  the  past,  she  could  not  realize  that  only 
two  years  had  elapsed  since  she  came  daily  to  this  quiet 
room  to  recite  her  lessons ;  for  during  that  time  ?he  had 
suffered  so  keenly  in  mind  and  body  that  it  seemed  as  if 
weary  ages  had  gone  over  her  young  head.  Involuntarily 
she  sighed,  and  passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead.  A 
low  tap  at  the  door  diverted  her  thoughts,  and  a  servant 
entered  and  gave  her  a  package  of  letters  from  New  York. 

Every  mail  brought  one  from  Felix ;  and  now  opening  his 


420  ST.  ELMO. 

first,  a  tender  smile  parted  her  lips  as  she  read  his  pas 
sionate,  importunate  appeal  for  her  speedy  return,  and  saw 
that  the  closing  lines  were  blotted  with  tears.  The  remain 
ing  eight  letters  were  from  persons  unknown  to  her,  and 
contained  requests  for  autographs  and  photographs,  for 
short  sketches  for  papers  in  different  sections  of  the  coun 
try,  and  also  various  inquiries  concerning  the  time  when 
her  new  book  would  probably  be  ready  for  press.  All  were 
kind,  friendly,  gratifying,  and  one  was  eloquent  with  thanks 
for  the  good  effect  produced  by  a  magazine  article  on  a 
dissipated,  irreligious  husband  and  father,  who,  after  its 
perusal,  had  resolved  to  reform,  and  wished  her  to  know 
the  beneficial  influence  which  she  exerted.  At  the  foot  of 
the  page  was  a  line  penned  by  the  rejoicing  wife,  invoking 
heaven's  choicest  blessings  on  the  author's  head. 

"Is  not  the  laborer  worthy  of  his  hire?"  Edna  felt  that 
her  wages  were  munificent  indeed ;  that  her  coffers  were  fill 
ing,  and  though  the  "Thank  God!"  was  not  audible,  the 
great  joy  in  her  uplifted  eyes  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
pastor,  who  had  been  silently  watching  her,  and  he  laid  his 
hand  on  hers. 

"What  is  it,  my  dear?" 

"The  reward  God  has  given  me!" 

She  read  aloud  the  contents  of  the  letter,  and  there  was 
a  brief  silence,  broken  at  last  by  Mr.  Hammond. 

"Edna,  my  child,  are  you  really  happy?" 

"So  happy  that  I  believe  the  wealth  of  California  could 
not  buy  this  sheet  of  paper,  which  assures  me  that  I  have 
been  instrumental  in  bringing  sunshine  to  a  darkened  house 
hold;  in  calling  the  head  of  a  family  from  haunts  of  vice 
and  midnight  orgies  back  to  his  wife  and  children ;  back  to 
the  shrine  of  prayer  at  his  own  hearthstone!  I  have  not 
lived  in  vain,  for  through  my  work  a  human  soul  has  been 
brought  to  Jesus,  and  I  thank  God  that  I  am  accounted 
worthy  to  labor  in  my  Lord's  vineyard !  Oh !  I  will  wear  that 
happy  wife's  blessing  in  my  inmost  heart,  and  like  those  old 
bells  in  Cambridgeshire,  inscribed,  'Pestem  fun  go!  Sabbata 
pango!'  it  shall  ring  a  silvery  chime,  exorcising  all  gloom, 
and  loneliness,  and  sorrow." 

The  old  man's  eyes  filled  as  he  noted  the  radiance  of  the 
v/oman's  lovely  face. 


ST.  ELMO.  421 

"You  have  indeed  cause  for  gratitude  and  great  joy,  as 
you  realize  all  the  good  you  are  destined  to  accomplish,  and 
I  know  the  rapture  of  saving  souls,  for,  through  God's 
grace,  I  believe  I  have  snatched  some  from  the  brink  of 
ruin.  But,  Edna,  can  the  triumph  of  your  genius,  the  ap 
plause  of  the  world,  the  approval  of  conscience,  even  the 
assurance  that  you  are  laboring  successfully  for  the  cause 
of  Christ — can  all  these  things  satisfy  your  womanly  heart 
—your  loving,  tender  heart?  My  child,  there  is  a  dreary 
look  sometimes  in  your  eyes,  that  reveals  loneliness,  almost 
weariness  of  life.  I  have  studied  your  countenance  closely 
when  it  was  in  repose ;  I  read  it  I  think  without  errors ;  and 
as  often  as  I  hear  your  writings  praised,  I  recall  those  lines, 
written  by  one  of  the  noblest  of  your  own  sex: 

'  To  have  our  books 

Appraised  by  love,  associated  with  love, 
While  we  sit  loveless!  is  it  hard,  you  think? 
At  least,  'tis  mournful.' 

Edna,  are  you  perfectly  contented  with  your  lot?" 

A  shadow  drifted  slowly  over  the  marble  face,  and  though 
it  settled  on  no  feature,  the  whole  countenance  was  changed. 

"I  can  not  say  that  I  am  perfectly  content,  and  yet  I 
would  not  exchange  places  with  any  woman  I  know." 

"Do  you  never  regret  a  step  which  you  took  one  evening, 
yonder  in  my  church?" 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not  regret  it.  I  often  thank  God  that  I 
was  able  to  obey  my  conscience  and  take  that  step." 

"Suppose  that  in  struggling  up  the  steep  path  of  duty  one 
soul  needs  the  encouragement,  the  cheering  companionship 
which  only  one  other  human  being  can  give?  Will  the  lat 
ter  be  guiltless  if  the  aid  is  obstinately  withheld?" 

"Suppose  the  latter  feels  that  in  joining  hands  both  would 
stumble  ?" 

"You  would  not,  oh,  Edna !  you  would  lift  each  other  to 
noble  heights!  Each  life  would  be  perfect,  complete.  My 
child,  will  you  let  me  tell  you  some  things  that  ought 
to " 

She  threw  up  her  hand,  with  that  old,  childish  gesture 
which  he  remembered  so  well,  and  shook  her  head. 

"No,  sir;  no,  sir!    Please  tell  me  nothing  that  will  rouse 


422  ST.  ELMO. 

a  sorrow  I  am  striving  to  drug.  Spare  me,  for  as  St. 
Chrysostom  once  said  of  Olympias  the  deaconess,  I  'live  in 
perpetual  fellowship  with  pain.'  " 

"My  dear  little  Edna,  as  I  look  at  you  and  think  of  your 
future,  I  am  troubled  about  you.  I  wish  I  could  confidently 
say  to  you,  what  that  same  St.  Chrysostom  wrote  to  Penta- 
dia:  'For  I  know  your  great  and  lofty  soul,  which  can  sail 
as  with  a  fair  wind  through  many  tempests,  and  in  the  midst 
of  the  waves  enjoy  a  white  calm.' " 

She  turned  and  took  the  minister's  hand  in  hers,  while  an 
indescribable  peace  settled  on  her  countenance,  and  stilled 
the  trembling  of  her  low,  sweet  voice: 

"Across  the  gray  stormy  billows  of  life,  that  'white  calm' 
of  eternity  is  rimming  the  water-line,  coming  to  meet  me. 
Already  the  black  pilot-boat  heaves  in  sight;  I  hear  the 
signal,  and  Death  will  soon  take  the  helm  and  steer  my  little 
bark  safely  into  the  shining  rest,  into  God's  'white  calm.' " 

She  went  to  the  piano  and  sang,  as  a  solo,  "Night's  Shade 
no  Longer,"  from  Moses  in  Egypt. 

While  the  pastor  listened,  he  murmured  to  himself : 

'  Sublime  is  the  faith  of  a  lonely  soul, 

In  pain  and  trouble  cherished; 
Sublime  is  the  spirit  of  hope  that  lives 
When  earthly  hope  has  perished." 

She  turned  over  the  sheets  of  music,  hunting  for  a  Ger 
man  hymn  of  which  Mr.  Hammond  was  very  fond,  but  he 
called  her  back  to  the  fireplace. 

"My  dear,  do  you  recollect  that  beautiful  passage  in 
Faber's  'Sights  and  Thoughts  in  Foreign  Churches'  ?  'There 
is  seldom  a  line  of  glory  written  upon  the  earth's  face  but 
a  line  of  suffering  runs  parallel  with  it;  and  they  that  read 
the  lustrous  syllables  of  the  one,  and  stoop  not  to  decipher 
the  spotted  and  worn  inscription  of  the  other,  get  the  least 
half  of  the  lesson  earth  has  to  give.' ': 

"No,  sir;  I  never  read  the  book.  Something  in  that  pas 
sage  brings  to  my  mind  those  words  of  Martin  Luther's, 
which  explain  so  many  of  the  'spotted  inscriptions'  of  this 
earth:  'Our  Lord  God  doth  like  a  printer,  who  setteth  the 
letters  backward.  We  see  and  feel  well  His  setting,  but 
we  shall  read  the  print  yonder,  in  the  life  to  come!'  Mr. 


ST.  ELMO. 


423 


Hammond,  it  is  said  that,  in  the  Alexandrian  MS.,  in  the 
British  Museum,  there  is  a  word  which  has  been  subjected 
to  microscopic  examination,  to  determine  whether  it  is  oe, 
who,  or  0C — which  is  the  abbreviation  of  Qto?,  God.  Some 
times  I  think  that  so  ought  we  to  turn  the  lens  of  faith  on 
many  dim,  perplexing  inscriptions  traced  in  human  history, 
and  perhaps  we  might  oftener  find  God." 

"Yes,  I  have  frequently  thought  that  the  MS.  of  every 
human  life  was  like  a  Peruvian  Quippo,  a  mass  of  many 
colored  cords  or  threads,  tied  and  knotted  by  unseen,  and, 
possibly,  angel  hands.  Here,  my  dear,  put  these  violets  in 
water ;  they  are  withering.  By  the  way,  Edna,  I  am  glad 
to  find  that  in  your  writings  you  attach  so  much  importance 
to  the  ministrv  of  flowers,  and  that  you  call  the  attention  of 
your  readers  to  the  beautiful  arguments  which  they  furnish 
in  favor  of  the  Christian  philosophy  of  a  divine  design  in 
nature.  Truly, 

'  Your  voiceless  lips,  O  flowers !  are  living  preachers, 

Each  cup  a  pulpit,  and  each  leaf  a  book; 
Supplying  to  my  fancy  numerous  teachers 
From  lowliest  nook.' " 

At  this  moment  the  door-bell  rang,  and  soon  after  the 
servant  brought  in  a  telegraphic  dispatch,  addressed  to  Mr. 
Hammond. 

It  was  from  Gordon  Leigh,  announcing  his  arrival  in 
New  York,  and  stating  that  he  and  Gertrude  would  reach 
the  parsonage  some  time  during  the  ensuing  week. 

Edna  went  into  the  kitchen  to  superintend  the  preparation 
of  the  minister's  supper;  and  when  she  returned  and  placed 
the  waiter  on  the  table  near  his  chair,  she  told  him  that  she 
must  go  back  to  New  York  immediately  after  the  arrival 
of  Gordon  and  Gertrude,  as  her  services  would  no  longer 
be  required  at  the  parsonage  and  her  pupils  needed  her. 

Two  days  passed  without  any  further  allusion  to  a  subject 
which  was  evidently  uppermost  in  Mr.  Hammond's  mind. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third,  Mrs.  Murray  said,  as  she 
rose  to  conclude  her  visit :  "You  are  so  much  better,  sir,  that 
I  must  claim  Edna  for  a  day  at  least.  She  has  not  yet  been 
to  Le  Bocage ;  and  as  she  goes  away  so  soon,  I  want  to  take 
her  home  with  me  this  morning.  Clara  Inge  promised  me 


ST.  ELMO. 

that  she  would  stay  with  you  until  evening.  Edna,  get  your 
bonnet.  I  shall  be  entirely  alone  to-day,  for  St.  Elmo  has 
carried  Huldah  to  the  plantation,  and  they  will  not  get  home 
until  late.  So,  my  dear,  we  shall  have  the  house  all  to  our 
selves." 

The  orphan  could  not  deny  herself  the  happiness  offered ; 
she  knew  that  she  ought  not  to  go,  but  for  once  her  strength 
failed  her,  she  yielded  to  the  temptation. 

During  the  drive  Mrs.  Murray  talked  cheerfully  of  va 
rious  things,  and  for  the  first  time  laid  aside  entirely  the 
haughty  constraint  which  had  distinguished  her  manner 
since  they  travelled  south  from  New  York. 

They  entered  the  avenue,  and  Edna  gave  herself  up  to 
the  rushing  recollections  which  were  so  mournfully  sweet. 
As  they  went  into  the  house,  and  the  servants  hurried  for 
ward  to  welcome  her,  she  could  not  repress  her  tears.  She 
felt  that  this  was  her  home,  her  heart's  home ;  and  as 
numerous  familiar  objects  met  her  eyes,  Mrs.  Murray  saw 
that  she  was  almost  overpowered  by  her  emotions. 

"I  wonder  if  there  is  any  other  place  on  earth  half  so 
beautiful!"  murmured  the  governess  several  hours  later,  as 
they  sat  looking  out  over  the  lawn,  where  the  deer  and 
sheep  were  browsing. 

"Certainly  not  to  our  partial  eyes.  And  yet  without  you, 
my  child,  it  does  not  seem  like  home.  It  is  the  only  home 
where  you  will  ever  be  happy." 

"Yes,  I  know  it ;  but  it  cannot  be  mine.  Mrs.  Murray,  I 
want  to  see  my  own  little  room." 

"Certainly ;  you  know  the  way.  I  will  join  you  there 
presently.  Nobody  has  occupied  it  since  you  left,  for  I  feel 
toward  your  room  as  I  once  felt  toward  the  empty  cradle  of 
my  dead  child." 

Edna  went  up-stairs  alone  and  closed  the  door  of  the 
apartment  she  had  so  long  called  hers,  and  looked  with 
childish  pleasure  and  affection  at  the  rosewood  furniture. 

Turning  to  the  desk  where  she  had  written  much  that  the 
world  now  praised  and  loved,  she  saw  a  vase  containing  a 
superb  bouquet,  with  a  card  attached  by  a  strip  of  ribbon. 
The  hothouse  flowers  were  arranged  with  exquisite  taste, 
and  the  orphan's  cheeks  glowed  suddenly  as  she  recognized 
Mr.  Murray's  handwriting  on  the  card :  "For  Edna  Earl." 


ST.  ELMO.  425 

When  she  took  up  the  bouquet  a  small  envelope  similarly 
addressed,  dropped  out 

For  some  minutes  she  stood  irresolute,  fearing  to  trust 
herself  with  the  contents ;  then  she  drew  a  chair  to  the 
desk,  sat  down,  and  broke  the  seal: 

"MY  DARLING  :  Will  you  not  permit  me  to  see  you  before 
you  leave  the  parsonage?  Knowing  the  peculiar  circum 
stances  that  brought  you  back,  I  cannot  take  advantage  of 
them  and  thrust  myself  into  your  presence  without  your 
consent.  I  have  left  home  to-day,  because  I  felt  assured 
that,  much  as  you  might  desire  to  see  'Le  Bocage,'  you  would 
never  come  here  while  there  was  a  possibility  of  meeting 
me.  You,  who  know  something  of  my  wayward,  sinful,  im 
patient  temper,  can  perhaps  imagine  what  I  suffer,  when 
I  am  told  that  your  health  is  wretched,  that  you  are  in  the 
next  room,  and  yet,  that  I  must  not,  shall  not  see  you — my 
own  Edna!  Do  you  wonder  that  I  almost  grow  desperate 
at  the  thought  that  only  a  wall — a  door — separates  me  from 
you,  whom  I  love  better  than  my  life?  Oh,  my  darling! 
Allow  me  one  more  interview !  Do  not  make  my  punishment 
heavier  than  I  can  bear.  It  is  hard — it  is  bitter  enough  to 
know  that  you  can  not,  or  will  not  trust  me ;  at  least  let  me 
see  your  dear  face  again.  Grant  me  one  hour — it  may  be 
the  last  we  shall  ever  spend  together  in  this  world. 

"Your  own,  ST.  ELMO/' 

"Ah,  my  God!  pity  me!  Why — oh!  why  is  it  that  I  am 
tantalized  with  glimpses  of  a  great  joy  never  to  be  mine  in 
this  life !  Why,  in  struggling  to  do  my  duty,  am  I  brought 
continually  to  the  very  gate  of  the  only  Eden  I  am  ever  to 
find  in  this  world,  and  yet  can  never  surprise  the  watching 
Angel  of  Wrath,  and  have  to  stand  shivering  outside,  and 
see  my  Eden  only  by  the  flashing  of  the  sword  that  bars  my 
entrance  ?" 

Looking  at  the  handwriting  so  different  from  any  other 
which  she  had  ever  examined,  her  thoughts  were  irresistibly 
carried  back  to  that  morning  when,  at  the  shop,  she  saw  this 
handwriting  for  the  first  time  on  the  blank  leaf  of  the 
Dante ;  and  she  recalled  the  shuddering  aversion  with  which 


426  ST.  ELMO. 

her  grandfather  had  glanced  at  it,  and  advised  her  to  com 
mit  it  to  the  flames  of  the  forge. 

How  many  such  notes  as  this  had  been  penned  to  Annie 
and  Gertrude,  and  to  that  wretched  woman  shut  up  in  an 
Italian  convent,  and  to  others  of  whose  names  she  was 
ignorant  ? 

Mrs.  Murray  opened  the  door,  looked  in,  and  said : 

"Come,  I  want  to  show  you  something  really  beautiful." 

Edna  put  the  note  in  her  pocket,  took  the  bouquet,  and 
followed  her  friend  down-stairs,  through  the  rotunda,  to 
the  door  of  Mr.  Murray's  sitting-room. 

"My  son  locked  this  door  and  carried  the  key  with  him; 
but  after  some  search,  I  have  found  another  that  will  open 
it.  Come  in,  Edna.  Now  look  at  that  large  painting  hang 
ing  over  the  sarcophagus.  It  is  a  copy  of  Titian's  'Christ 
Crowned  with  Thorns,'  the  original  of  which  is  in  a  Milan 
church,  I  believe.  While  St.  Elmo  was  last  abroad,  he  was 
in  Genoa  one  afternoon  when  a  boat  was  capsized.  Being 
a  fine  swimmer,  he  sprang  into  the  water  where  several  per 
sons  were  struggling,  and  saved  the  lives  of  two  little  chil 
dren  of  an  English  gentleman,  who  had  his  hands  quite  full 
in  rescuing  his  wife.  Two  of  the  party  were  drowned,  but 
the  father  was  so  grateful  to  my  son  that  he  has  written 
him  several  letters,  and  last  year  he  sent  him  this  picture, 
which,  though  of  course  much  smaller  than  the  original,  is 
considered  a  very  fine  copy.  I  begged  to  have  it  hung  in 
the  parlor,  but  fearing,  I  suppose,  that  its  history  might 
possibly  be  discovered  (you  know  how  he  despises  anything 
like  a  parade  of  good  deeds),  St.  Elmo  insisted  on  bringing 
it  here  to  this  Egyptian  Museum,  where,  unfortunately,  peo 
ple  can  not  see  it." 

For  some  time  they  stood  admiring  it,  and  then  Edna's 
eyes  wandered  away  to  the  Taj  Mahal,  to  the  cabinets  and 
book-cases.  Her  lip  began  to  quiver  as  every  article  of 
furniture  babbled  of  the  By-Gone — of  the  happy  evenings 
spent  here — of  that  hour  when  the  idea  of  authorship  first 
seized  her  mind  and  determined  her  future. 

Mrs.  Murray  walked  up  to  the  arch,  over  which  the  cur 
tains  fell  touching  the  floor,  and  laying  her  hand  on  the 
folds  of  silk,  said  hesitatingly: 

"I  am  going  to  show  you  something  that  my  son  would 


ST.  ELMO. 


427 


not  easily  forgive  me  for  betraying;  for  it  is  a  secret  he 
guards  most  jealously " 

"No,  I  would  rather  not  see  it.  I  wish  to  learn  nothing 
which  Mr.  Murray  is  not  willing  that  I  should  know." 

"You  will  scarcely  betray  me  to  my  son  when  you  see 
what  it  is ;  and  beside,  I  am  determined  you  shall  have  no 
room  to  doubt  the  truth  of  some  things  he  has  told  you. 
There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  look  at  it.  Do  you 
recognize  that  face  yonder,  over  the  mantelpiece?" 

She  held  the  curtains  back,  and  despite  her  reluctance  to 
glancing  into  the  inner  room,  Edna  raised  her  eyes  timidly, 
and  saw,  in  a  richly-carved  oval  frame,  hanging  on  the 
opposite  wall,  a  life-size  portrait  of  herself. 

"We  learned  from  the  newspapers  that  some  fine  photo 
graphs  had  been  taken  in  New  York,  and  I  sent  on  and 
bought  two.  St.  Elmo  took  one  of  them  to  an  artist  in 
Charleston,  and  superintended  the  painting  of  that  portrait. 
When  he  returned,  just  before  I  went  North,  he  brought 
the  picture  with  him,  and  with  his  own  hands  hung  it  yon 
der.  I  have  noticed  that  since  that  day  he  always  keeps  the 
curtains  down  over  the  arch,  and  never  leaves  the  house 
without  locking  his  rooms." 

Edna  had  dropped  her  crimsoned  face  in  her  hands,  but 
Mrs.  Murray  raised  it  forcibly  and  kissed  her. 

"I  want  you  to  know  how  well  he  loves  you — how  neces 
sary  you  are  to  his  happiness.  Now  I  must  leave  you,  for  I 
see  Mrs.  Montgomery's  carriage  at  the  door.  You  have  a 
note  to  answer ;  there  are  writing  materials  on  the  table 
yonder." 

She  went  out,  closing  the  door  softly,  and  Edna  was  alone 
with  surroundings  that  pleaded  piteously  for  the  absent 
master.  Oxalis  and  heliotrope  peeped  at  her  over  the  top 
of  the  lotos  vases;  one  of  a  pair  of  gauntlets  had  fallen  on 
the  carpet  near  the  cameo  cabinet ;  two  or  three  newspapers 
and  a  meerschaum  lay  upon  a  chair ;  several  theological 
works  were  scattered  on  the  sofa,  and  the  air  waj  heavy 
with  lingering  cigar-smoke. 

Just  in  front  of  the  Taj  Mahal  was  a  handsome  copy  of 
Edna's  novel,  and  a  beautiful  morocco-bound  volume  con 
taining  a  collection  of  all  her  magazine  sketches. 

She  sat  down  in  the  crimson-cushioned  armchair  that  was 


428  ST.  ELMO. 

drawn  close  to  the  circular  table,  where  pen  and  paper  told 
that  the  owner  had  recently  been  writing,  and  near  the  ink 
stand  was  a  handkerchief  with  German  initials,  IS*  SE»  JHt* 

Upon  a  mass  of  loose  papers  stood  a  quaint  bronze  paper 
weight,  representing  Cartaphilds,  the  Wandering  Jew;  and 
on  the  base  was  inscribed  Mr.  Murray's  favorite  Arabian 
maxim:  "Ed  dunya  djifetun  ve  talibeha  kilabi" :  "The  world 
is  an  abomination,  and  those  ivho  toil  about  it  are  dogs." 

There,  too,  was  her  own  little  Bible;  and  as  she  took  it 
up  it  opened  at  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  St.  John,  where 
she  found,  as  a  book-mark,  the  photograph  of  herself  from 
which  the  portrait  had  been  painted.  An  unwithered  gera 
nium  sprig  lying  among  the  leaves  whispered  that  the  pages 
had  been  read  that  morning. 

Out  on  the  lawn  birds  swung  in  the  elm-twigs,  singing 
cheerily,  lambs  bleated  and  ran  races,  and  the  little  silver 
bell  on  Huldah's  pet  fawn,  "Edna,"  tinkled  ceaselessly. 

"Help  me,  O  my  God !  in  this  the  last  hour  of  my  trial." 

The  prayer  went  up  meaningly,  and  Edna  took  a  pen 
and  turned  to  write.  Her  arm  struck  a  portfolio  lying  on 
the  edge  of  the  table,  and  in  falling  loose  sheets  of  paper 
fluttered  out  on  the  carpet.  One  caught  her  eye ;  she  picked 
it  up  and  found  a  sketch  of  the  ivied  ruins  of  Phyle.  Un 
derneath  the  drawing,  and  dated  fifteen  years  before,  were 
traced,  in  St.  Elmo's  writing,  those  lines  which  Henry 
Soame  is  said  to  have  penned  on  the  blank  leaf  of  a  copy 
of  the  "Pleasures  of  Memory" : 

"  Memory  makes  her  influence  known 
By  sighs,  and  tears,  and  grief  alone. 
I  greet  her  as  the  fiend,  to  whom  belong 
The  vulture's  ravening  beak,  the  raven's  funereal  song! 
She  tells  of  time  misspent,  of  comfort  lost, 
Of  fair  occasions  gone  forever  by ; 
Of  hopes  too  fondly  nursed,  too  rudely  crossed, 
Of  many  a  cause  to  wish,  yet  fear  to  die ; 
For  what,  except  the  instinctive  fear 
Lest  she  survive,  detains  me  here, 
When  all  the  'Life  of  Life'  is  fled?" 

The  lonely  woman  looked  upward,  appealingly,  and  there 
upon  the  wall  she  met — not  as  formerly,  the  gleaming, 
augurous,  inexorable  eyes  of  the  Cimbrian  Prophetess — but 
the  pitying  God's  gaze  of  Titian's  Jesus. 


ST.  ELMO. 


429 


When  Mrs.  Murray  returned  to  the  room,  Edna  sat  as  still 
as  one  of  the  mummies  in  the  sarcophagus,  with  her  head 
thrown  back,  and  the  long,  black  eyelashes  sweeping  her 
colorless  cheeks. 

One  hand  was  pressed  over  her  heart,  the  other  held  a 
note  directed  to  St.  Elmo  Murray ;  and  the  cold,  fixed  feat 
ures  were  so  like  those  of  an  Angel  of  Death  sometimes 
sculptured  on  cenotaphs,  that  Mrs.  Murray  uttered  a  cry  of 
alarm. 

As  she  bent  over  her,  Edna  opened  her  arms  and  said  in 
a  feeble,  spent  tone: 

"Take  me  back  to  the  parsonage.  I  ought  not  to  have 
come  here;  I  might  have  known  I  was  not  strong  enough." 

"You  have  had  one  of  those  attacks.  Why  did  you  not 
call  me  ?  I  will  bring  you  some  wine." 

"No ;  only  let  me  go  away  as  soon  as  possible.  Oh !  I  am 
ashamed  of  my  weakness." 

She  rose,  and  her  pale  lips  writhed  as  her  sad  eyes  wan 
dered  in  a  farewell  glance  around  the  room. 

She  put  the  unsealed  note  in  Mrs.  Murray's  hand,  and 
turned  toward  the  door. 

"Edna!  My  daughter!  you  have  not  refused  St.  Elmo's 
request  ?" 

"My  mother !    Pity  me !  I  could  not  grant  it." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"THEY  have  come.    I  hear  Gertrude's  birdish  voice." 

The  words  had  scarcely  passed  Mr.  Hammond's  lips  ere 
his  niece  bounded  into  the  room,  followed  by  her  husband. 

Edna  was  sitting  on  the  chintz-covered  lounge,  mending 
a  basketful  of  the  old  man's  clothes  that  needed  numerous 
stitches  and  buttons,  and,  throwing  aside  her  sewing  mate 
rials,  she  rose  to  meet  the  travellers. 

At  sight  of  her  Gordon  Leigh  stopped  suddenly  and  his 
face  grew  instantly  as  bloodless  as  her  own. 

"Edna !   Oh !  how  changed  !   What  a  wreck !" 

He  grasped  her  outstretched  hand,  folded  it  in  his, 
which  trembled  violently,  and  a  look  of  anguish  mastered 
his  features,  as  his  eyes  searched  her  calm  countenance. 

"I  did  not  think  it  would  come  so  soon.  Passing  away 
in  the  early  morning  of  your  life!  Oh,  my  pure,  broken 
lily !" 

He  did  not  seem  to  heed  his  wife's  presence,  until  she 
threw  her  arms  around  Edna,  exclaiming: 

"Get  away,  Gordon !  I  want  her  all  to  myself.  Why,  you 
pale  darling!  What  a  starved  ghost  you  are!  Not  half  as 
substantial  as  my  shadow,  is  she,  Gordon  ?  Oh,  Edna !  how 
I  have  longed  to  see  you,  to  tell  you  how  I  enjoyed  your 
dear,  delightful,  grand,  noble  book!  To  tell  you  what  a 
great  woman  I  think  you  are;  and  how  proud  of  you  I  am. 
A  gentleman  who  came  over  in  the  steamer  with  us,  asked 
me  how  much  you  paid  me  per  annum  to  puff  you.  He  was 
a  miserable  old  cynic  of  a  bachelor,  ridiculed  all  women 
unmercifully,  and  at  last  I  told  him  I  would  bet  both  my 
ears  that  the  reason  he  was  so  bearish  and  hateful,  was  be 
cause  some  pretty  girl  had  flirted  with  him  outrageously. 
He  turned  up  his  ugly  nose  especially  at  'blue  stockings'  ; 
said  all  literary  women  were  'hopeless  pedants  and  slat 
terns,'  and  quoted  that  abominable  Horace  Walpole's  ac 
count  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu's  'dirt  and  vivacity.' 
I  really  thought  Gordon  would  throw  him  overboard.  I 

[430] 


ST.  ELMO. 


431 


wonder  what  he  would  say  if  he  could  see  you  darning 
Uncle  Allan's  socks.  Oh,  Edna,  dearie !  I  am  sorry  to  find 
you  looking  so  pale." 

All  this  was  uttered  inter jectionally  between  vigorous 
hugs  and  warm,  tender  kisses,  and  as  Gertrude  threw  her 
bonnet  and  wrappings  on  the  lounge,  she  continued : 

"I  wished  for  you  just  exactly  ten  thousand  times  while 
I  was  abroad,  there  were  so  many  things  that  you  could  have 
described  so  beautifully.  Gordon,  don't  Edna's  eyes  remind 
you  very  much  of  that  divine  picture  of  the  Madonna  at 
Dresden?" 

She  looked  round  for  an  answer,  but  her  husband  had  left 
the  room,  and,  recollecting  a  parcel  that  had  been  stowed 
away  in  the  pocket  of  the  carriage,  she  ran  out  to  get  it. 

Presently  she  reappeared  at  the  door,  with  a  goblet  in 
her  hand. 

"Uncle  Allan,  who  carries  the  keys  now?" 

"Edna.    What  will  you  have,  my  dear?" 

"I  want  some  brandy.  Gordon  looks  very  pale,  and  com 
plains  of  not  feeling  well,  so  I  intend  to  make  him  a  mint- 
julep.  Ah,  Edna!  These  husbands  are  such  troublesome 
creatures." 

She  left  the  room  jingling  the  bunch  of  keys,  and  a  few 
moments  after  they  heard  her  humming  an  air  from  "Rigo- 
letto,"  as  she  bent  over  the  mint-bed,  under  the  study 
window. 

Mr.  Hammond,  who  had  observed  all  that  passed,  and 
saw  the  earnest  distress  clouding  the  orphan's  brow,  said 
gravely : 

"She  has  not  changed  an  iota;  she  never  will  be  anything 
more  than  a  beautiful,  merry  child,  and  is  a  mere  pretty 
pet,  not  a  companion  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word.  She  is 
not  quick-witted,  or  she  would  discern  a  melancholy  truth 
that  might  overshadow  all  her  life.  Unless  Gordon  learns 
more  self-control,  he  will  ere  long  betray  himself.  I  ex 
postulated  with  him  before  his  marriage,  but  for  once  he 
threw  my  warning  to  the  winds.  I  am  an  old  man,  and 
have  seen  many  phases  of  human  nature,  and  watched  the 
development  of  many  characters;  and  I  have  found  that 
these  pique  marriages  are  always  mournful — always  disas 
trous.  In  such  instances  I  would  with  more  pleasure  offici- 


432 


ST.  ELMO. 


ate  at  the  grave  than  at  the  altar.  Once  Estelle  and  Agnes 
persuaded  me  that  St.  Elmo  was  about  to  wreck  himself  on 
this  rock  of  ruin,  and  even  his  mother's  manner  led  me  to 
believe  that  he  would  marry  his  cousin ;  but,  thank  God !  he 
was  wiser  than  I  feared." 

"Mr.  Hammond,  are  you  sure  that  Gertrude  loves  Mr. 
Leigh?" 

"Oh !  yes,  my  dear !  Of  that  fact  there  can  be  no  doubt. 
Why  do  you  question  it?" 

"She  told  me  once  that  Mr.  Murray  had  won  her  heart." 

It  was  the  first  time  Edna  had  mentioned  his  name  since 
her  return,  and  it  brought  a  faint  flush  to  her  cheeks. 

"That  was  a  childish  whim  which  she  has  utterly  forgot 
ten.  A  woman  of  her  temperament  never  remains  attached 
to  a  man  from  whom  she  is  long  separated.  I  do  not  sup 
pose  that  she  remembered  St.  Elmo  a  month  after  she  ceased 
to  meet  him.  I  feel  assured  that  she  loves  Gordon  as  well 
as  she  can  love  any  one.  She  is  a  remarkably  sweet-tem 
pered,  unselfish,  gladsome  woman,  but  is  not  capable  of 
very  deep,  lasting  feeling." 

"I  will  go  away  at  once.  This  is  Saturday,  and  I  will 
start  to  New  York  early  Monday  morning.  Mr.  Leigh  is 
weaker  than  I  ever  imagined  he  could  be." 

The  outline  of  her  mouth  hardened,  and  into  her  eyes 
crept  an  expression  of  scorn,  that  very  rarely  found  a  har 
bor  there. 

"Yes,  my  dear;  although  it  grieves  me  to  part  with  you, 
I  know  it  is  best  that  you  should  not  be  here,  at  least  for 
the  present.  Agnes  is  visiting  friends  at  the  North  and 
when  she  returns,  Gordon  and  Gertrude  will  remove  to  their 
new  house.  Then,  Edna,  if  I  feel  that  I  need  you,  if  I 
write  for  you,  will  you  not  come  back  to  me?  Dear  child,  I 
want  your  face  to  be  the  last  I  look  upon  in  this  world." 

She  drew  the  pastor's  shrunken  hand  to  her  lips,  and 
shook  her  head. 

"Do  not  ask  me  to  do  that  which  my  strength  will  not 
permit.  There  are  many  reasons  why  I  ought  not  to  come 
here  again ;  and,  moreover,  my  work  calls  me  hence,  to  a 
distant  field.  My  physical  strength  seems  to  be  ebbing  fast, 
and  my  vines  are  not  all  purple  with  mellow  fruit.  Some 
clusters,  thank  God!  are  fragrant,  ripe,  and  ready  for  the 


ST.  ELMO. 


433 


wine-press,  when  the  Angel  of  the  Vintage  comes  to  gather 
them  in ;  but  my  work  is  only  half  done.  Not  until  my 
fingers  clasp  white  flowers  under  a  pall,  shall  it  be  said  of 
me,  'Yet  a  little  sleep,  a  little  slumber,  a  little  folding  of  the 
hands  to  sleep.'  In  coelo  quies!  The  German  idea  of  death 
is  to  me  peculiarly  comforting  and  touching,  'Heimgang' — 
going  home.  Ah,  sir !  humanity  ought  to  be  homesick ;  and 
in  thinking  of  that  mansion  beyond  the  star-paved  path 
way  of  the  sky,  whither  Jesus  has  gone  to  prepare  our 
places,  we  children  of  earth  should,  like  the  Swiss,  never 
lose  our  home-sickness.  Our  bodies  are  of  the  dust — dusty, 
and  bend  dustward ;  but  our  souls  floated  down  from  the 
sardonyx  walls  of  the  Everlasting  City,  and  brought  with 
them  a  yearning  maladie  du  pays,  which  should  help  them 
to  struggle  back.  Sometimes  I  am  tempted  to  believe  that 
the  joys  of  this  world  are  the  true  lotos,  devouring  which, 
mankind  glory  in  exile,  and  forget  the  Heimgang.  Oh !  in 
deed,  'here  we  have  no  continuing  city,  but  seek  one  to  come.' 
Heimgang!  Thank  God!  going  home  for  ever!" 

The  splendor  of  the  large  eyes  seemed  almost  unearthly  as 
she  looked  out  over  the  fields,  where  in  summers  past  the 
shout  of  the  merry  reapers  rose  like  the  songs  of  Greek 
harvesters  to  Demeter!  Nay,  nay,  as  a  hymn  of  gratitude 
and  praise  to  Him  who  "feedeth  the  fowls  of  the  air,"  and 
maketh  the  universe  a  vast  Sarepta,  in  which  the  cruse 
never  faileth  the  prophets  of  God.  Edna  sat  silent  for  some 
time,  with  her  slender  hands  folded  on  her  lap,  and  the 
pastor  heard  her  softly  repeating,  as  if  to  her  own  soul, 
those  lines  on  "Life": 

"A  cry  between  the  silences, 
A  shadow-birth  of  clouds  at  strife 
With  sunshine  on  the  hills  of  life; 
Between  the  cradle  and  the  shroud, 
A  meteor's  flight  from  cloud  to  cloud!" 

Several  hours  later,  when  Mr.  Leigh  returned  to  the 
study,  he  found  Edna  singing  some  of  the  minister's  favor 
ite  Scotch  ballads ;  while  Gertrude  rested  on  the  lounge,  half 
propped  on  her  elbow,  and  leaning  forward  to  dangle  the 
cord  and  tassel  of  her  robe  de  chambre  within  reach  of  an 
energetic  little  blue-eyed  kitten,  which,  with  its  paws  in  the 


434  ST-  ELMO. 

air,  rolled  on  the  carpet,  catching  at  the  silken  toy.  The 
governess  left  the  piano,  and  resumed  her  mending  of  the 
contents  of  the  clothes-basket. 

In  answer  to  some  inquiries  of  Mr.  Hammond,  Mr.  Leigh 
gave  a  brief  account  of  his  travels  in  Southern  Europe;  but 
his  manner  was  constrained,  his  thoughts  evidently  preoc 
cupied.  Once  his  eyes  wandered  to  the  round,  rosy,  dimp 
ling  face  of  his  beautiful  child-wife,  and  he  frowned,  bit 
his  lip,  and  sighed;  while  his  gaze,  earnest  and  mournfully 
anxious,  returned  and  dwelt  upon  the  weary  but  serene 
countenance  of  the  orphan. 

In  the  conversation,  which  had  turned  accidentally  upon 
philology  and  the  MSS.  of  the  Vatican,  Gertrude  took  no 
part;  now  and  then  glancing  up  at  the  speakers,  she  con 
tinued  her  romp  with  the  kitten.  At  length,  tired  of  her 
frolicsome  pet,  she  rose  with  a  half-suppressed  yawn,  and 
sauntered  up  to  her  husband's  chair.  Softly  and  lovingly 
her  pretty  little  pink  palms  were  passed  over  her  husband's 
darkened  brow,  and  her  fingers  drew  his  hair  now  on  one 
side,  now  on  the  other,  while  she  peeped  over  his  shoulder 
to  watch  the  effect  of  the  arrangement. 

The  caresses  were  inopportune,  her  touch  annoyed  him. 
He  shook  it  off,  and,  stretching  out  his  arm,  put  her  gently 
but  firmly  away,  saying,  coldly: 

"There  is  a  chair,  Gertrude." 

Edna's  eyes  looked  steadily  into  his,  with  an  expression 
of  grave,  sorrowful  reproof — of  expostulation;  and  the 
flush  deepened  on  his  face  as  his  eyes  fell  before  her  re 
buking  gaze. 

Perhaps  the  young  wife  had  become  accustomed  to  such 
rebuffs;  at  all  events  she  evinced  neither  mortification  nor 
surprise,  but  twirled  her  silk  tassel  vigorously  around  her 
finger,  and  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  Gordon !  have  you  not  forgotten  to  give  Edna  that 
letter,  written  by  the  gentleman  we  met  at  Palermo  ?  Edna, 
he  paid  your  book  some  splendid  compliments.  I  fairly 
clapped  my  hands  at  his  praises — didn't  I,  Gordon  ?" 

Mr.  Leigh  drew  a  letter  from  the  inside  pocket  of  his 
coat,  and,  as  he  gave  it  to  the  orphan,  said  with  a  touch  of 
bitterness  in  his  tone : 

"Pardon  my  negligence ;  probably  you  will  find  little  news 


ST.  ELMO.  435 

in  it,  as  he  is  aone  of  your  old  victims,  and  you  can  guess 
its  contents." 

The  letter  was  from  Sir  Roger;  and  while  he  expressed 
great  grief  at  hearing,  through  Mr.  Manning's  notes,  that 
her  health  was  seriously  impaired,  he  renewed  the  offer  of 
his  hand,  and  asked  permission  to  come  and  plead  his  suit 
in  person. 

As  Edna  hurriedly  glanced  over  the  pages,  and  put  them 
in  her  pocket,  Gertrude  said  gayly,  "Shame  on  you,  Gor 
don  !  Do  you  mean  to  say,  or,  rather  to  insinuate,  that  all 
who  read  Edna's  book  are  victimized?" 

He  looked  at  her  from  under  thickening  eyebrows,  and 
replied  with  undisguised  impatience: 

"No;  your  common  sense  ought  to  teach  you  that  such 
was  not  my  meaning  or  intention.  Edna  places  no  such  in 
terpretation  on  my  words." 

"Common  sense!  Oh,  Gordon,  dearie!  how  unreasonable 
you  are!  Why,  you  have  told  me  a  thousand  times  that  I 
had  not  a  particle  of  common  sense,  except  on  the  subject 
of  juleps;  and  how,  then,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  can  you 
expect  me  to  show  any?  I  never  pretended  to  be  a  great 
shining  genius  like  Edna,  whose  writings  all  the  world  is 
talking  about.  I  only  want  to  be  wise  enough  to  understand 
you,  dearie,  and  make  you  happy.  Gordon,  don't  you  feel 
any  better?  What  makes  your  face  so  red?" 

She  went  hack  to  his  chair,  and  leaned  her  lovely  head 
close  to  his,  while  an  anxious  expression  filled  her  large 
blue  eyes. 

Gordon  Leigh  realized  that  his  marriage  was  a  terrible 
mistake,  which  only  death  could  rectify;  but  even  in  his 
wretchedness  he  was  just,  blaming  only  himself — exoner 
ating  his  wife.  Had  he  not  wooed  the  love  of  which,  already, 
he  was  weary  ?  Having  deceived  her  at  the  altar,  was  there 
justification  for  his  dropping  the  mask  at  the  hearthstone? 
Nay,  the  skeleton  must  be  no  rattling  of  skull  and  cross- 
bones  to  freeze  the  blood  in  the  sweet  laughing  face  of  the 
trusting  bird. 

Now  her  clinging  tenderness,  her  affectionate  humility, 
upbraided  him  as  no  harsh  words  could  possibly  have  done. 
With  a  smothered  sigh  he  passed  his  arm  around  her,  and 
drew  her  closer  to  his  side. 


436  ST.  ELMO. 

"At  least  my  little  wife  is  wise  enough  to«teach  her  hus 
band  to  be  ashamed  of  his  petulance." 

"And  quite  wise  enough,  dear  Gertrude,  to  make  him  very 
proud  and  happy ;  for  you  ought  to  be  able  to  say  with  the 
sweetest  singer  in  all  merry  England: 

'  But  I  look  up  and  he  looks  down, 

And  thus  our  married  eyes  can  meet; 
Unclouded  his,  and  clear  of  frown, 
And  gravely  sweet.' " 

As  Edna  glanced  at  the  young  wife  and  uttered  these 
words,  a  mist  gathered  in  her  own  eyes,  and  collecting  her 
sewing  utensils  she  went  to  her  room  to  pack  her  trunk. 

During  her  stay  at  the  parsonage  she  had  not  attended 
service  in  the  church,  because  Mr.  Hammond  was  lonely, 
and  her  Sabbaths  were  spent  in  reading  to  him.  But  her 
old  associates  in  the  choir  insisted  that,  before  she  returned 
to  New  York,  she  should  sing  with  them  once  more. 

Thus  far  she  had  declined  all  invitations;  but  on  the 
morning  of  the  last  day  of  her  visit,  the  organist  called  to 
say  that  a  distinguished  divine,  from  a  distant  State,  would 
fill  Mr.  Hammond's  pulpit;  and  as  the  best  and  leading 
soprano  in  the  choir  was  disabled  by  severe  cold,  and  could 
not  be  present,  he  begged  that  Edna  would  take  her  place, 
and  sing  a  certain  solo  in  the  music  which  he  had  selected 
for  an  opening  piece.  Mr.  Hammond,  who  was  pardonably 
proud  of  his  choir,  was  anxious  that  the  stranger  should  be 
greeted  and  inspired  by  fine  music,  and  urged  Edna's  compli 
ance  with  the  request. 

Reluctantly  she  consented,  and  for  the  first  time  Duty  and 
Love  seemed  to  signal  a  truce,  to  shake  hands  over  the  pre 
liminaries  of  a  treaty  for  peace. 

As  she  passed  through  the  churchyard  and  walked  up  the 
steps,  where  a  group  of  Sabbath-school  children  sat  talk 
ing,  her  eyes  involuntarily  sought  the  dull  brown  spot  on 
the  marble. 

Over  it  little  Herbert  Inge  had  spread  his  white  handker 
chief,  and  piled  thereon  his  Testament  and  catechism,  lay 
ing  on  the  last  one  of  those  gilt-bordered  and  handsome  pic 
torial  cards,  containing  a  verse  from  the  Scriptures,  which 
are  frequently  distributed  by  Sabbath-school  teachers. 


ST.  ELMO.  437 

Edna  stooped  and  looked  at  the  picture  covering  the 
blood-stain.  It  represented  our  Saviour  on  the  Mount,  de 
livering  the  sermon,  and  in  golden  letters  were  printed  his 
words : 

"Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged.  For  with  what  judg 
ment  ye  judge,  ye  shall  be  judged;  and  with  what  measure 
ye  mete,  it  shall  be  measured  to  you  again." 

The  eyes  of  the  Divine  Preacher  seemed  to  look  into  hers, 
and  the  outstretched  hand  to  point  directly  at  her. 

She  trembled,  and  hastily  kissing  the  sweet  red  lips  which 
little  Herbert  held  up  to  her,  she  went  in,  and  up  to  the  gal 
lery. 

The  congregation  assembled  slowly,  and  as  almost  all  the 
faces  were  familiar  to  Edna,  each  arrival  revived  something 
of  the  past.  Here  the  flashing  silk  flounces  of  a  young  belle 
brushed  the  straight  black  folds  of  widow's  weeds;  on  the 
back  of  one  seat  was  stretched  the  rough  brown  hand  of  a 
poor  laboring  man;  on  the  next  lay  the  dainty  fingers  of  a 
matron  of  wealth  and  fashion,  who  had  entirely  forgotten  to 
draw  a  glove  over  her  sparkling  diamonds. 

In  all  the  splendor  of  velvet,  feathers,  and  sea-green 
moire,  Mrs.  Montgomery  sailed  proudly  into  her  pew,  con 
voying  her  daughter  Maud,  who  was  smiling  and  whispering 
to  her  escort;  and  just  behind  them  came  a  plainly-clad  but 
happy  young  mechanic,  a  carpenter,  clasping  to  his  warm, 
honest  heart  the  arm  of  his  sweet-faced,  gentle  wife,  and 
holding  the  hand  of  his  rosy-cheeked,  bright-eyed,  three- 
year  old  boy,  who  toddled  along,  staring  at  the  brilliant  pic 
tures  on  the  windows. 

When  Mr.  Leigh  and  Gertrude  entered  there  was  a  gen 
eral  stir,  a  lifting  of  heads  and  twisting  of  necks,  in  order 
to  ascertain  what  new  styles  of  bonnet,  lace,  and  mantle 
prevailed  in  Paris. 

A  moment  after  Mrs.  Murray  walked  slowly  down  the 
aisle,  and  Edna's  heart  seemed  to  stand  still  as  she  saw  Mr. 
Murray's  powerful  form.  He  stepped  forward,  and  while 
he  opened  the  door  of  the  pew,  and  waited  for  his  mother  to 
seat  herself,  his  face  was  visible;  then  he  sat  down,  closing 
the  door. 

The  minister  entered,  and,  as  he  ascended  the  pulpit,  the 
organ  began  to  breathe  its  solemn  welcome.  When  the 


438  ST.  ELMO. 

choir  rose  and  commenced  their  chorus,  Edna  stood  silent, 
with  her  book  in  her  hand,  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  Mur- 
rays'  pew. 

The  strains  of  triumph  ceased,  the  organ  only  sobbed  its 
sympathy  to  the  thorn-crowned  Christ,  struggling  along  the 
Via  Dolorosa,  and  the  orphan's  quivering  lips  parted,  and 
she  sang  her  solo. 

As  her  magnificent  voice  rose  and  rolled  to  the  arched 
roof,  people  forgot  propriety,  and  turned  to  look  at  the 
singer.  She  saw  Mrs.  Murray  start  and  glance  eagerly  up 
at  her,  and  for  an  instant  the  grand,  pure  voice  faltered 
slightly,  as  Edna  noticed  that  the  mother  whispered  some 
thing  to  the  son.  But  he  did  not  turn  his  proud  head,  he 
only  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  side  of  the  pew  next  to  the 
aisle,  and  rested  his  temple  on  his  hand. 

When  the  preliminary  services  ended,  and  the  minister 
stood  up  in  the  shining  pulpit  and  commenced  his  discourse, 
Edna  felt  that  St.  Elmo  had  at  last  enlisted  angels  in  his 
behalf;  for  the  text  was  contained  in  the  warning,  whose 
gilded  letters  hid  the  blood-spot,  "Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not 
judged." 

As  far  as  two  among  his  auditory  were  concerned,  the 
preacher  might  as  well  have  addressed  his  sermon  to  the 
mossy  slabs,  visible  through  the  windows.  Both  listened  to 
the  text,  and  neither  heard  any  more.  Edna  sat  looking 
down  at  Mr.  Murray's  massive,  finely-poised  head,  and  she 
could  see  the  profile  contour  of  features,  regular  and  dark, 
as  if  carved  and  bronzed. 

During  the  next  half -hour  her  vivid  imagination  sketched 
and  painted  a  vision  of  enchantment — of  what  might  have 
been,  if  that  motionless  man  below,  there  in  the  crimson- 
cushioned  pew,  had  only  kept  his  soul  from  grievous  sins. 
A  vision  of  a  happy,  proud,  young  wife  reigning  at  Le 
Bocage,  shedding  the  warm,  rosy  light  of  her  love  over  the 
lonely  life  of  its  master;  adding  to  his  strong,  clear  intellect 
and  ripe  experience,  the  silver  flame  of  her  genius;  borrow 
ing  from  him  broader  and  more  profound  views  of  her  race, 
on  which  to  base  her  ideal  aesthetic  structures;  softening, 
refining  his  nature,  strengthening  her  own ;  helping  him  to 
help  humanity ;  loving  all  good,  being  good,  doing  good ; 
serving  and  worshipping  God  together;  walking  hand  and 


ST.  ELMO. 


439 


hand  with  her  husband  through  earth's  wide  valley  of  Baca, 
with  peaceful  faces  full  of  faith,  looking  heavenward. 

"  God  pity  them  both !  and  pity  us  all, 
Who  vainly  the  dreams  of  youth  recall. 
For  of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen 
The  saddest  are  these,  '  It  might  have  been ! ' ' 

At  last,  with  a  faint  moan,  which  reached  no  ear  but  that 
of  Him  who  never  slumbers,  Edna  withdrew  her  eyes  from 
the  spot  where  Mr.  Murray  sat,  and  raised  them  toward 
the  pale  Christ,  whose  wan  lips  seemed  to  murmur: 

"Be  of  good  cheer !  He  that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all 
things.  What  I  do,  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt 
know  hereafter." 

The  minister,  standing  beneath  the  picture  of  the  Master 
whom  he  served,  closed  the  Bible  and  ended  his  discourse  by 
hurling  his  text  as  a  thunderbolt  at  those  whose  upturned 
faces  watched  him: 

"Finally,  brethren,  remember  under  all  circumstances  the 
awful  admonition  of  Jesus,  'Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not 
judged !": 

The  organ  peals  and  the  doxology  were  concluded;  the 
benediction  fell  like  God's  dew,  alike  on  sinner  and  on  saint, 
and  amid  the  solemn  moaning  of  the  gilded  pipes,  the  con 
gregation  turned  to  quit  the  church. 

With  both  hands  pressed  over  her  heart,  Edna  leaned 
heavily  against  the  railing. 

"To-morrow  I  go  away  for  ever.  I  shall  never  see  his 
face  again  in  this  world.  Oh!  I  want  to  look  at  it  once 
more." 

As  he  stepped  into  the  aisle,  Mr.  Murray  threw  his  head 
back  slightly,  and  his  eyes  swept  up  to  the  gallery  and  met 
hers.  It  was  a  long,  eager,  heart-searching  gaze.  She  saw 
a  countenance  more  fascinating  than  of  old ;  for  the  sardonic 
glare  had  gone,  the  bitterness,  "the  dare-man,  dare-brute, 
dare-devil"  expression  had  given  place  to  a  stern  mournful- 
ness,  and  the  softening  shadow  of  deep  contrition  and  manly 
sorrow  hovered  over  features  where  scoffing  cynicism  had 
so  long  scowled. 

The  magnetism  of  St.  Elmo's  eyes  was  never  more  mar 
vellous  than  when  they  rested  on  the  beautiful  white  face 


440 


ST.  ELMO. 


of  the  woman  he  loved  so  well,  whose  calm,  holy  eyes  shone 
like  those  of  an  angel,  as  they  looked  sadly  down  at  his.  In 
the  mystic  violet  light  with  which  the  rich  stained  glass 
flooded  the  church,  that  pallid,  suffering  face,  sublime  in  its 
meekness  and  resignation,  hung  above  him  like  one  of  Peru- 
gino's  saints  over  kneeling  mediaeval  worshippers.  As  the 
moving  congregation  bore  him  nearer  to  the  door,  she  leaned 
farther  over  the  mahogany  balustrade,  and  a  snowy  crocus 
which  she  wore  at  her  throat,  snapped  its  brittle  stem  and 
floated  down  till  it  touched  his  shoulder.  He  laid  one  hand 
over  it,  holding  it  there,  and  while  a  prayer  burned  in  his 
splendid  eyes,  hers  smiled  a  melancholy  farewell.  The  crowd 
swept  the  tall  form  forward,  under  the  arches,  beyond  the 
fluted  columns  of  the  gallery,  and  the  long  gaze  ended. 

"Ah !  well  for  us  all  some  sweet  hope  lies 
Deeply  buried  from  human  eyes ; 
And  in  the  hereafter,  angels  may 
Roll  the  stone  from  its  grave  away." 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

"I  AM  truly  thankful  that  you  have  returned !  I  am  quite 
worn  out  trying  to  humor  Felix's  whims,  and  take  your 
place.  He  has  actually  lost  ten  pounds;  and  if  you  had 
staid  away  a  month  longer  I  think  it  would  have  finished 
my  poor  boy,  who  has  set  you  up  as  an  idol  in  his  heart.  He 
almost  had  a  spasm  last  week,  when  his  father  told  him  he 
had  better  reconcile  himself  to  your  absence,  as  he  believed 
that  you  would  never  come  back  to  the  drudgery  of  the 
schoolroom.  I  am  very  anxious  about  him;  his  health  is 
more  feeble  than  it  has  been  since  he  was  five  years  old. 
My  dear,  you  have  no  idea  how  you  have  been  missed !  Your 
admirers  call  by  scores  to  ascertain  when  you  may  be  ex 
pected  home;  and  I  do  not  exaggerate  in  the  least  when  I 
say  that  there  is  a  champagne  basketful  of  periodicals  and 
letters  upstairs,  that  have  arrived  recently.  You  will  find 
them  piled  on  the  table  and  desk  in  your  room." 

"Where  are  the  children?"  asked  Edna,  glancing  around 
the  sitting-room  into  which  Mrs.  Andrews  had  drawn  her. 

"Hattie  is  spending  the  day  with  Lila  Manning,  who  is 
just  recovering  from  a  severe  attack  of  scarlet  fever,  and 
Felix  is  in  the  library  trying  to  sleep.  He  has  one  of  his 
nervous  headaches  to-day.  Poor  fellow !  he  tries  so  hard  to 
overcome  his  irritable  temper  and  to  grow  patient,  that  I 
am  growing  fonder  of  him  every  day.  How  travel-spent 
and  ghastly  you  are!  Sit  down,  and  I  will  order  some  re 
freshments.  Take  this  wine,  my  dear,  and  presently  you 
shall  have  a  cup  of  chocolate." 

"Thank  you,  not  any  wine.    I  only  want  to  see  Felix." 

She  went  to  the  library,  cautiously  opened  the  door,  and 
crept  softly  across  the  floor  to  the  end  of  the  sofa. 

The  boy  lay  looking  through  the  window,  and  up  beyond 
the  walls  and  chimneys,  at  the  sapphire  pavement,  where 
rolled  the  sun.  Casual  observers  thought  the  cripple's  face 
ugly  and  disagreeable;  but  the  tender,  loving  smile  that 

[44i] 


442 


ST.  ELMO. 


lighted  the  countenance  of  the  governess  as  she  leaned  for 
ward,  told  that  some  charm  lingered  in  the  sharpened  feat 
ures  overcast  with  sickly  sallowness.  In  his  large,  deep-set 
eyes,  over  which  the  heavy  brows  arched  like  a  roof,  she 
saw  now  a  strange  expression  that  frightened  her.  Was  it 
the  awful  shadow  of  the  Three  Singing  Spinners,  whom 
Catullus  painted  at  the  wedding  of  Peleus?  As  the  child 
looked  into  the  blue  sky,  did  he  catch  a  glimpse  of  their  trail 
ing  white  robes,  purple-edged — of  their  floating  rose-colored 
veils?  Above  all,  did  he  hear  the  unearthly  chorus  which 
they  chanted  as  they  spun? 

"Cur  rite  ducentes,  subtemina  cur  rite  fusi!" 

The  governess  was  seized  by  a  vague  apprehension  as  she 
watched  her  pupil,  and  bending  down,  she  said,  fondly: 

"Felix,  my  darling,  I  have  come  back !  Never  again  while 
I  live  will  I  leave  you." 

The  almost  bewildering  joy  that  flashed  into  his  counte 
nance  mutely  but  eloquently  welcomed  her,  as  kneeling  be 
side  the  sofa  she  wound  her  arms  around  him,  and  drew  his 
head  to  her  shoulder. 

"Edna,  is  Mr.  Hammond  dead?" 

"No,  he  is  almost  well  again,  and  needs  me  no  more." 

"I  need  you  more  than  anybody  else  ever  did.  Oh,  Edna ! 
I  thought  sometimes  you  would  stay  at  the  South  that  you 
love  so  well,  and  I  should  see  you  no  more ;  and  then  all  the 
light  seemed  to  die  out  of  the  world,  and  the  flowers  were 
not  sweet,  and  the  stars  were  not  bright,  and  oh !  I  was  glad 
I  had  not  long  to  live." 

"Hush!  you  must  not  talk  so.  How  do  you  know  that 
you  may  not  live  as  long  as  Ahasuerus,  the  'Everlasting 
Jew'  ?  My  dear  little  boy,  in  all  this  wide  earth,  you  are  the 
only  one  whom  I  have  to  love  and  cling  to,  and  we  will  be 
happy  together.  Darling,  your  head  aches  to-day?" 

She  pressed  her  lips  twice  to  his  hot  forehead. 

"Yes;  but  the  heartache  was  much  the  hardest  to  bear 
until  you  came.  Mamma  has  been  very  good  and  kind,  and 
staid  at  home  and  read  to  me;  but  I  wanted  you,  Edna.  I 
do  not  believe  I  have  been  wicked  since  you  left;  for  I 
prayed  all  the  while  that  God  would  bring  you  back  to  me. 
I  have  tried  hard  to  be  patient." 

With  her  cheek  nestled  against  his,  Edna  told  him  many 


ST.  ELMO.  443 

things  that  had  occurred  during  their  separation,  and  no 
ticed  that  his  eyes  brightened  suddenly  and  strangely. 

"Edna,  I  have  a  secret  to  tell  you ;  something  that  even 
mamma  is  not  to  know  just  now.  You  must  not  laugh  at 
me.  While  you  were  gone  I  wrote  a  little  MS.,  and  it  is  dedi 
cated  to  you !  and  some  day  I  hope  it  will  be  printed.  Are 
you  glad,  Edna?  My  beautiful,  pale  Edna!" 

"'Felix,  I  am  very  glad  you  love  me  sufficiently  to  dedicate 
your  little  MS.  to  me ;  but,  my  dear  boy,  I  must  see  it  before 
I  can  say  I  am  glad  you  wrote  it." 

"If  you  had  been  here,  it  would  not  have  been  written, 
because  then  I  should  merely  have  talked  out  all  the  ideas 
to  you ;  but  you  were  far  away,  and  so  I  talked  to  my  paper. 
After  all,  it  was  only  a  dream.  One  night  I  was  feverish, 
and  mamma  read  aloud  those  passages  that  you  marked  in 
that  great  book,  Maury's  Physical  Geography  of  the  Sea, 
that  you  admire  and  quote  so  often;  and  of  which  I  remem 
ber  you  said  once,  in  talking  to  Mr.  Manning,  that  'it  rolled 
its  warm,  beautiful,  sparkling  waves  of  thought  across  the 
cold,  gray  sea  of  science,  just  like  the  Gulf  Stream  it 
treated  of.'  Two  of  the  descriptions  which  mamma  read 
were  so  splendid  that  they  rang  in  my  ears  like  the  music 
of  the  Swiss  Bell-Ringers.  One  was  the  account  of  the  at 
mosphere,  by  Dr.  Buist  of  Bombay,  and  the  other  was  the 
description  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  which  was  quoted  from 
Schleiden's  Lecture.  My  fever  was  high,  and  when  at  last 
I  went  to  sleep,  I  had  a  queer  dream  about  madrepores  and 
medusae,  and  I  wrote  it  down  as  well  as  I  could,  and  called 
it  'Algae  Adventures,  in  a  Voyage  Round  the  World.'  Edna, 
I  have  stolen  something  from  you,  and  as  you  will  be  sure 
to  find  it  out  when  you  read  my  little  story,  where  there  is  a 
long,  hard  word  missing  in  the  MS.,  I  will  tell  you  about  it 
now.  Do  you  recollect  talking  to  me  one  evening,  when  we 
were  walking  on  the  beach  at  The  Willows,  about  some  shell- 
clad  animalcula,  which  you  said  were  so  very  small  that 
Professor  Schultze,  of  Bonn,  found  no  less  than  a  million 
and  a  half  of  their  minute  shells  in  an  ounce  of  pulverized 
quartz,  from  the  shore  of  Mola  di  Gaeta?  Well,  I  put  all 
you  told  me  in  my  little  MS.;  but,  for  my  life,  I  could  not 
think  of  the  name  of  the  class  to  which  they  belong.  Do 
you  recollect  it?" 


444 


ST.  ELMO. 


"Let  me  think  a  moment.  Was  it  not  Foraminifera?" 
"That's  the  identical  word — 'Foraminifera!'  No  wonder 
I  could  not  think  of  it!  Six  syllables  tied  up  in  a  scientific 
knot.  Phew !  it  makes  my  head  ache  worse  to  try  to  recol 
lect  it.  How  stoop-shouldered  your  memory  must  be  from 
carrying  such  heavy  loads!  It  is  a  regular  camel." 

"Yes;  it  is  a  meek,  faithful  beast  of  burden,  and  will  very 
willingly  bear  the  weight  of  that  scientific  name  until  you 
want  to  use  it;  so  do  not  tax  your  mind  now.  You  said 
you  stole  it  from  me,  but  my  dear,  ambitious  authorling,  my 
little  round-jacket  scribbler,  I  wish  you  to  understand  dis 
tinctly  that  I  do  not  consider  that  I  have  been  robbed.  The 
fact  was  discovered  by  Professor  Schultze,  and  bequeathed 
by  him  to  the  world.  From  that  instant  it  became  universal, 
common  property,  which  any  man,  woman,  or  child  may  use 
at  pleasure,  provided  a  tribute  of  gratitude  is  paid  to  the 
donor.  Every  individual  is  in  some  sort  an  intellectual  bank, 
issuing  bills  of  ideas  (very  often  specious,  but  not  always 
convertible  into  gold  or  silver)  ;  and  now,  my  precious  little 
boy,  recollect  that  just  as  long  as  I  have  any  capital  left, 
you  can  borrow;  and  some  day  I  will  turn  Shy  lock,  and 
make  you  pay  me  with  usury." 

"Edna,  I  should  like  above  all  things  to  write  a  book  of 
stories  for  poor,  sick  children;  little  tales  that  would  make 
them  forget  their  suffering  and  deformity.  If  I  could  even 
reconcile  one  lame  boy  to  being  shut  up  indoors,  while  others 
are  shouting  and  skating  in  the  sunshine,  I  should  not  feel 
as  if  I  were  so  altogether  useless  in  the  world.  Edna,  do 
you  think  that  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  do  so  ?" 

"Perhaps  so,  dear  Felix ;  certainly,  if  God  wills  it.  When 
you  are  stronger  we  will  study  and  write  together,  but  to 
day  you  must  compose  yourself  and  be  silent.  Your  fever 
is  rising." 

"The  doctor  left  some  medicine  yonder  in  that  goblet,  but 
mamma  has  forgotten  to  give  it  to  me.  I  will  take  a  spoon 
ful  now,  if  you  please." 

His  face  was  much  flushed;  and  as  she  kissed  him  and 
turned  away,  he  exclaimed : 

"Oh!  where  are  you  going?" 

"To  my  room,  to  take  off  my  hat." 

"Do  not  be  gone  long.    I  am  so  happy  now  that  you  are 


ST.  ELMO.  445 

here  again.  But  I  don't  want  you  to  get  out  of  my  sight. 
Come  back  soon,  and  bathe  my  head." 

On  the  following  day,  when  Mr.  Manning  called  to  wel 
come  her  home,  he  displayed  an  earnestness  and  depth  of 
feeling  which  surprised  the  governess.  Putting  his  hand 
on  her  arm,  he  said  in  a  tone  that  had  lost  its  metallic  ring; 

"How  fearfully  changed  since  I  saw  you  last!  I  knew 
you  were  not  strong  enough  to  endure  the  trial;  and  if  I 
had  had  a  right  to  interfere,  you  should  never  have  gone.'* 

"Mr.  Manning,  I  do  not  quite  understand  your  mean- 
ing." 

"Edna,  to  see  you  dying  by  inches  is  bitter  indeed !  I  be 
lieved  that  you  would  marry  Murray — at  least  I  knew  any 
other  woman  would — and  I  felt  that  to  refuse  his  affection 
would  be  a  terrible  trial,  through  which  you  could  not  pass 
with  impunity.  Why  you  rejected  him  I  have  no  right  to 
inquire,  but  I  have  a  right  to  ask  you  to  let  me  save  your 
life.  I  am  well  aware  that  you  do  not  love  me,  but  at  least 
you  can  esteem  and  entirely  trust  me ;  and  once  more  I  hold 
out  my  hand  to  you  and  say,  give  me  the  wreck  of  your 
life!  oh!  give  me  the  ruins  of  your  heart!  I  will  guard  you 
tenderly ;  we  will  go  to  Europe — to  the  East ;  and  rest  of 
mind,  and  easy  travelling,  and  change  of  scene  will  restore 
you.  I  never  realized,  never  dreamed  how  much  my  happi 
ness  depended  upon  you,  until  you  left  the  city.  I  have 
always  relied  so  entirely  upon  myself,  feeling  the  need  of 
no  other  human  being;  but  now,  separated  from  you  I  am 
restless,  am  conscious  of  a  vague  discontent.  If  you  spend 
the  next  year  as  you  have  spent  the  last,  you  will  not  sur 
vive  it.  I  have  conferred  with  your  physician.  He  re 
luctantly  told  me  your  alarming  condition,  and  I  have  come 
to  plead  with  you  for  the  last  time  not  to  continue  your 
suicidal  course,  not  to  destroy  the  life  which,  if  worthless 
to  you,  is  inexpressibly  precious  to  a  man  who  prays  to  be 
allowed  to  take  care  of  it.  A  man  who  realizes  that  it  is 
necessary  to  the  usefulness  and  peace  of  his  own  lonely  life; 
who  wishes  no  other  reward  on  earth  but  the  privilege  of 
looking  into  your  approving  eyes,  when  his  daily  work  is 
ended,  and  he  sits  down  at  his  fireside.  Edna!  I  do  not 
ask  for  your  love,  but  I  beg  for  your  hand,  your  confidence, 


446  ST.  ELMO. 

your  society — for  the  right  to  save  you  from  toil.  Will  you 
go  to  the  Old  World  with  me?" 

Looking  suddenly  up  at  him,  she  was  astonished  to  find 
tears  in  his  searching  and  usually  cold  eyes. 

Scandinavian  tradition  reports  that  seven  parishes  were 
once  overwhelmed,  and  still  lie  buried  under  snow  and  ice, 
and  yet  occasionally  those  church-bells  are  heard  ringing 
clearly  under  the  glaciers  of  the  Folge  Fond. 

So,  in  the  frozen,  crystal  depths  of  this  man's  nature,  his 
long  silent,  smothered  affections  began  to  chime. 

A  proud  smile  trembled  over  Edna's  face,  as  she  saw  how 
entirely  she  possessed  the  heart  of  one,  whom  above  all  other 
men  she  most  admired. 

"Mr.  Manning,  the  assertion  that  you  regard  your  life  as 
imperfect,  incomplete,  without  the  feeble  complement  of 
mine — that  you  find  your  greatest  happiness  in  my  society, 
is  the  most  flattering,  the  most  gratifying  tribute  which  ever 
has  been,  or  ever  can  be  paid  to  my  intellect.  It  is  a  triumph 
indeed ;  and,  because  unsought,  surely  it  is  a  pardonable 
pride  that  makes  my  heart  throb.  This  assurance  of  your 
high  regard  is  the  brightest  earthly  crown  I  shall  ever  wear. 
But,  sir,  you  err  egregiously  in  supposing  that  you  would 
be  happy  wedded  to  a  woman  who  did  not  love  you.  You 
think  now  that  if  we  were  only  married,  my  constant  pres 
ence  in  your  home,  my  implicit  confidence  in  your  character, 
would  fully  content  you ;  but  here  you  fail  to  understand 
your  own  heart,  and  I  know  that  the  consciousness  that  my 
affection  was  not  yours  would  make  you  wretched.  No, 
no !  my  dear,  noble  friend !  God  never  intended  us  for  each 
other.  I  can  not  go  to  the  Old  World  with  you.  I  know 
how  peculiarly  precarious  is  my  tenure  of  life,  and  how 
apparently  limited  is  my  time  for  work  in  this  world,  but  I 
am  content.  I  try  to  labor  faithfully,  listening  for  the  sum 
mons  of  Him  who  notices  even  the  death  of  sparrows.  God 
will  not  call  me  hence,  so  long  as  He  has  any  work  for  me 
to  do  on  earth ;  and  when  I  become  useless,  and  can  no  longer 
serve  Him  here,  I  do  not  wish  to  live.  Through  Christ  I 
am  told,  'Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be 
afraid.'  Mr.  Manning,  I  am  not  ignorant  of,  nor  indifferent 
to,  my  physical  condition ;  but,  thank  God !  I  can  say  truly, 
I  am  not  troubled,  neither  am  I  afraid,  and  my  faith  is — 


ST.  ELMO.  447 

'All  as  God  wills,  who  wisely  heeds, 

To  give  or  to  withhold, 
And  knoweth  more  of  all  my  needs 
Than  all  my  prayers  have  told.' " 

The  editor  took  off  his  glasses  and  wiped  them,  but  the 
dimness  was  in  his  eyes ;  and  after  a  minute,  during  which 
he  recovered  his  old  calmness,  and  hushed  the  holy  chime, 
muffling  the  Folge  Fond  Bells,  he  said  gayly  and  quietly : 

"Edna,  one  favor,  at  least,  you  will  grant  me.  The  death 
of  a  relative  in  Louisiana  has  placed  me  in  possession  of  an 
ample  fortune,  and  I  wish  you  to  take  my  little  Lila  and 
travel  for  several  years.  You  are  the  only  woman  I  ever 
knew  to  whom  I  would  entrust  her  and  her  education,  and 
it  would  gratify  me  beyond  expression  to  feel  that  I  had 
afforded  you  the  pleasure  which  can  not  fail  to  result  from 
such  a  tour.  Do  not  be  too  proud  to  accept  a  little  happi 
ness  from  my  hands." 

''Thank  you,  my  generous,  noble  friend !  I  gratefully 
accept  a  great  deal  of  happiness  at  this  instant,  but  your 
kind  offer  I  must  decline.  I  can  not  leave  Felix." 

He  sighed,  took  his  hat,  and  his  eyes  ran  over  the  face 
and  figure  of  the  governess. 

"Edna  Earl,  your  stubborn  will  makes  you  nearly  akin  to 
those  gigantic  fuci  which  are  said  to  grow  and  flourish  as 
submarine  forests  in  the  stormy  channel  of  Terra  del  Fuego, 
where  they,  shake  their  heads  defiantly,  always  trembling, 
always  triumphing,  in  the  fierce  lashing  of  waves  that  wear 
away  rocks.  You  belong  to  a  very  rare  order  of  human 
algae,  rocked  and  reared  in  the  midst  of  tempests  that  would 
either  bow  down,  or  snap  asunder,  or  beat  out  most  natures. 
As  you  will  not  grant  my  petition,  try  to  forget  it;  we  will 
bury  the  subject.  Good-bye!  I  shall  call  to-morrow  after 
noon  to  take  you  to  drive." 

With  renewed  zest  Edna  devoted  every  moment  stolen 
from  Felix,  to  the  completion  of  her  new  book.  Her  first 
had  been  a  "bounteous  promise" — at  least  so  said  critic- 
dom — and  she  felt  that  the  second  would  determine  her 
literary  position,  would  either  place  her  reputation  as  an 
author  beyond  all  cavil,  or  utterly  crush  her  ambition. 

Sometimes  as  she  bei  ;  over  her  MSV  and  paused  to  reread 
some  passage  just  penned,  which  she  had  laboriously  com- 


448  ST.  ELMO. 

posed,  and  thought  particularly  good  as  an  illustration  of 
the  idea  she  was  triving  to  embody  perspicuously,  a  smile 
would  flit  across  her  countenance  while  she  asked  herself : 

"Will  my  readers  see  it  as  I  see  it?  Will  they  thank  me 
for  my  high  opinion  of  their  culture,  in  assuming  that  it  will 
be  quite  as  plain  to  them  as  to  me?  If  there  should  acci 
dentally  be  an  allusion  to  classical  or  scientific  literature, 
which  they  do  not  understand  at  the  first  hasty,  careless, 
novel-reading  glance,  will  they  inform  themselves,  and  then 
appreciate  my  reason  for  employing  it,  and  thank  me  for 
the  hint ;  or  will  they  attempt  to  ridicule  my  pedantry  ? 
When  will  they  begin  to  suspect  that  what  they  may  imagine 
sounds  'learned'  in  my  writings,  merely  appears  so  to  them 
because  they  have  not  climbed  high  enough  to  see  how  vast, 
how  infinite  is  the  sphere  of  human  learning?  No,  no, 
dear  reader,  shivering  with  learning-phobia,  I  am  not 
learned.  You  are  only  a  little,  a  very  little  more  ignorant. 
Doubtless  you  know  many  things  which  I  should  be  glad 
to  learn;  come,  let  us  barter.  Let  us  all  study  the  life  of 
Giovanni  Pico  Mirandola,  and  then  we  shall  begin  to  under 
stand  the  meaning  of  the  word  'learned.' 

Edna  unintentionally  and  continually  judged  her  readers 
according  to  her  own  standard,  and  so  eager,  so  unquench 
able  was  her  thirst  for  knowledge,  that  she  could  not  under 
stand  how  the  utterance  of  some  new  fact,  or  the  redress 
ing  and  presentation  of  some  forgotten  idea,  could  possibly 
be  regarded  as  an  insult  by  the  person  thus  benefited.  Her 
first  book  taught  her  what  was  termed  her  "surplus  paraded 
erudition,"  had  wounded  the  amour  propre  of  the  public; 
but  she  was  conscientiously  experimenting  on  public  taste, 
and  though  some  of  her  indolent,  luxurious  readers,  who 
wished  even  their  thinking  done  by  proxy,  shuddered  at 
the  "spring-water  pumped  upon  their  nerves,"  she  good- 
naturedly  overlooked  their  grimances  and  groans,  and  con 
tinued  the  hydropathic  treatment  even  in  her  second  book, 
hoping  some  good  effects  from  the  shock.  Of  one  intensely 
gratifying  fact  she  could  not  fail  to  be  thoroughly  informed, 
by  the  avalanche  of  letters  which  almost  daily  covered  her 
desk;  she  had  at  least  ensconced  herself  securely  in  a  citadel. 
whence  she  could  smilingly  defy  all  assaults — in  the  warm 
hearts  of  her  noble  countrywomen.  Safely  sheltered  in 


ST.  ELMO.  449 

their  sincere  and  devoted  love,  she  cared  little  for  the  shafts 
that  rattled  and  broke  against  the  rocky  ramparts,  and,  re 
coiling,  dropped  out  of  sight  in  the  moat  below. 

So  with  many  misgivings,  and  much  hope,  and  great 
patience,  she  worked  on  assiduously,  and  early  in  summer 
her  book  was  finished  and  placed  in  the  publisher's  hands. 

In  the  midst  of  her  anxiety  concerning  its  reception,  a 
new  and  terrible  apprehension  took  possession  of  her,  for 
it  became  painfully  evident  that  Felix,  whose  health  had 
never  been  good,  was  slowly  but  steadily  declining. 

Mrs.  Andrews  and  Edna  took  him  to  Sharon,  to  Sara 
toga,  and  to  various  other  favorite  resorts  for  invalids,  but 
with  no  visible  results  that  were  at  all  encouraging,  and  at 
last  they  came  home  almost  disheartened.  Dr.  Howell 
finally  prescribed  a  sea-voyage,  and  a  sojourn  of  some 
wrecks  at  Eaux  Bonne  in  the  Pyrennes,  as  those  waters  had 
effected  some  remarkable  cures. 

As  the  doctor  quitted  the  parlor,  where  he  held  a  confer 
ence  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Andrews,  the  latter  turned  to  her 
husband,  saying: 

"It  is  useless  to  start  anywhere  with  Felix  unless  Miss 
Earl  can  go  with  us ;  for  he  would  fret  himself  to  death  in 
a  week.  Really,  Louis,  it  is  astonishing  to  see  how  devoted 
they  are  to  each  other.  Feeble  as  that  woman  is,  she  will 
always  sit  up  whenever  there  is  any  medicine  to  be  given 
during  the  night;  and  while  he  was  ill  at  Sharon,  she  did 
not  close  li«,r  eyes  for  a  week.  I  can't  help  feeling  jealous 
of  his  affection  for  her,  and  I  spoke  to  her  about  it.  He 
was  asleep  at  the  time,  with  his  hand  grasping  one  of  hers; 
and  when  I  told  her  how  trying  it  was  for  a  mother  to  see 
her  child's  whole  heart  given  to  a  stranger,  to  hear  morn 
ing,  noon,  and  night,  'Edna,'  always  'Edna,'  never  once 
'mamma/  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  strange,  suffering 
expression  that  came  into  her  pale  face.  Her  lips  trembled 
so  that  she  could  scarcely  speak,  but  she  said  meekly,  'Oh! 
forgive  me  if  I  have  won  your  child's  heart ;  but  I  love  him. 
You  have  your  husband  and  daughter,  your  brother  and 
sister ;  but  I — oh !  I  have  only  Felix !  I  have  nothing  else 
to  cling  to  in  all  this  world !'  Then  she  kissed  his  poor  little 
fingers,  and  wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break,  and  wrung 
her  hands,  and  begged  me  again  and  again  to  forgive  her 


450 


ST.  ELMO. 


if  he  loved  her  best.  She  is  the  strangest  woman  I  ever 
knew;  sometimes,  when  she  is  sitting  by  me  in  church,  I 
watch  her  calm,  cold,  white  face,  and  she  makes  me  think 
of  a  snow  statue;  but  if  Felix  says  anything  to  arouse  her 
feelings  and  call  out  her  affection,  she  is  a  volcano.  It  is 
very  rarely  that  one  finds  a  beautiful  woman,  distinguished 
by  her  genius,  admired  and  courted  by  the  reading  public, 
devoting  herself  as  she  does  to  our  dear  little  crippled  dar 
ling.  While  I  confess  I  am  jealous  of  her,  her  kindness  to 
my  child  makes  me  love  her  more  than  I  can  express.  Louis, 
she  must  go  with  us.  Poor  thing!  she  seems  to  be  failing 
almost  as  fast  as  Felix;  and  I  verily  believe  if  he  should 
die,  it  would  kill  her.  Did  you  notice  how  she  paced  the 
floor  while  the  doctors  were  consulting  in  Felix's  room? 
She  loves  nothing  but  my  precious  lame  boy." 

"Certainly,  Kate,  she  must  go  with  you.  I  quite  agree 
with  you,  my  dear,  that  Felix  is  dependent  upon  her,  and 
would  not  derive  half  the  benefit  from  the  trip  if  she  re 
mained  at  home.  I  confess  she  has  cured  me  to  a  great 
extent  of  my  horror  of  literary  characters.  She  is  the  only 
one  I  ever  saw  who  was  really  lovable,  and  not  a  walking 
parody  on  her  own  writings.  You  would  be  surprised  at 
the  questions  constantly  asked  me  about  her  habits  and 
temper.  People  seem  so  curious  to  learn  all  the  routine  of 
her  daily  life.  Last  week  a  member  of  our  club  quoted 
something  from  her  writings,  and  said  that  she  was  one  of 
the  few  authors  of  the  day  whose  books,  without  having 
first  examined,  he  would  put  into  the  hands  of  his  daugh 
ters.  He  remarked:  'I  can  trust  my  girls'  characters  to 
her  training,  for  she  is  a  true  woman;  and  if  she  errs  at 
all  in  any  direction,  it  is  the  right  one,  only  a  little  too 
rigidly  followed.'  I  am  frequently  asked  how  she  is  related 
to  me,  for  people  can  not  believe  that  she  is  merely  the  gov 
erness  of  our  children.  Kate,  will  you  tell  her  that  it  is  my 
desire  that  she  should  accompany  you?  Speak  to  her  at 
once,  that  I  may  know  how  many  staterooms  I  shall  engage 
on  the  steamer." 

"Come  with  me,  Louis,  and  speak  to  her  yourself." 

They  went  upstairs  together,  and  paused  on  the  threshold 
of  Felix's  room  to  observe  what  was  passing  within. 

The  boy  was  propped  by  pillows  into  an  upright  position 


ST.  ELMO.  451 

on  the  sofa,  and  was  looking  curiously  into  a  small  basket 
which  Edna  held  on  her  lap. 

She  was  reading  to  him  a  touching  little  letter  just  re 
ceived  from  an  invalid  child,  who  had  never  walked,  who 
was  confined  always  to  the  house,  and  wrote  to  thank  her, 
in  sweet,  childish  style,  for  a  story  which  she  had  read  in 
the  Magazine,  and  which  made  her  very  happy. 

The  invalid  stated  that  her  chief  amusement  consisted  in 
tending  a  few  flowers  that  grew  in  pots  in  her  windows; 
and  in  token  of  her  gratitude,  she  had  made  a  nosegay  of 
mignonette,  pansies,  and  geranium  leaves,  which  she  sent 
with  her  scrawling  letter. 

In  conclusion,  the  child  asked  that  the  woman  whom, 
without  having  seen,  she  yet  loved,  would  be  so  kind  as  to 
give  her  a  list  of  such  books  as  a  little  girl  ought  to  study, 
and  to  write  her  "just  a  few  lines"  that  she  could  keep 
under  her  pillow,  to  look  at  now  and  then.  As  Edna  finished 
reading  the  note,  Felix  took  it,  to  examine  the  small,  indis 
tinct  characters,  and  said : 

"Dear  little  thing!  Don't  you  wish  we  knew  her?  'Louie 
Lawrence.'  Of  course,  you  will  answer  it,  Edna?" 

"Yes,  immediately,  and  tell  her  how  grateful  I  am  for 
her  generosity  in  sparing  me  a  portion  of  her  pet  flowers. 
Each  word  in  her  sweet  little  letter  is  as  precious  as  a  pearl, 
for  it  came  from  the  very  depths  of  her  pure  heart." 

"Oh !  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  feel  that  you  are  doing 
some  good  in  the  world!  That  little  Louie  says  she  prays 
for  you  every  night  before  she  goes  to  sleep !  What  a  com 
fort  such  letters  must  be  to  you!  Edna,  how  happy  you 
look !  But  there  are  tears  shining  in  your  eyes,  they  always 
come  when  you  are  glad.  What  books  will  you  tell  her  to 
study?" 

"I  will  think  about  the  subject,  and  let  you  read  my  an 
swer.  Give  me  the  'notelet' ;  I  want  to  put  it  away  securely 
among  my  treasures.  How  deliciously  fragrant  the  flowers 
are!  Only  smell  them,  Felix!  Here,  my  darling,  I  will 
give  them  to  you,  and  write  to  the  little  Louie  how  happy 
she  made  two  people." 

She  lifted  the  delicate  bouquet  so  daintily  fashioned  by 
fairy  child-fingers,  inhaled  the  perfume,  and,  as  she  put  it  in 
the  thin  fingers  of  the  cripple,  she  bent  forward  and  kissed 


452 


ST.  EL:\IO. 


his  fever-parched  lips.    At  this  instant  Felix  saw  his  parents 
standing  at  the  door,  and  held  up  the  flowers  triumphantly. 
"Oh,  mamma!  come  smell  this  mignonette.     Why  can't 
we  grow  some  in  boxes  in  our  window  ?" 

Mr.  Andrews  leaned  over  his  son's  pillows,  softly  put  his 
hand  on  the  boy's  forehead,  and  said : 

"My  son,  Miss  Earl  professes  to  love  you  very  much,  but 
I  doubt  whether  she  really  means  all  she  says;  and  I  am 
determined  to  satisfy  myself  fully.  Just  now  I  can  not 
leave  my  business,  but  mamma  intends  to  take  you  to 
Europe  next  week,  and  I  want  to  know  whether  Miss  Earl 
will  leave  all  her  admirers  here,  and  go  with  you  and  help 
mamma  to  nurse  you.  Do  you  think  she  will  ?" 

Mrs.  Andrews  stood  with  her  hand  resting  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  governess,  watching  the  varying  expression  of  her 
child's  countenance. 

"I  think,  papa — I  hope  she  will ;  I  believe  she " 

He  paused,  and,  struggling  up  from  his  pillows,  he 
stretched  out  his  poor  little  arms,  and  exclaimed : 

"Oh,  Edna!  you  will  go  with  me?  You  promised  you 
would  never  forsake  me !  Tell  papa  you  will  go." 

His  head  was  on  her  shoulder,  his  arms  were  clasped 
tightly  around  her  neck.  She  laid  her  face  on  his,  and  was 
silent. 

Air.  Andrews  placed  his  hand  on  the  orphan's  bowed 
head. 

"Miss  Earl,  you  must  let  me  tell  you  that  I  look  upon  you 
as  a  member  of  my  family;  that  my  wife  and  I  love  you 
almost  as  well  as  if  you  were  one  of  our  children ;  and  I 
hope  you  will  not  refuse  to  accompany  Kate  on  the  tour 
she  contemplates.  Let  me  take  your  own  father's  place; 
and  I  shall  regard  it  as  a  great  favor  to  me  and  mine  if 
you  will  consent  to  go,  and  allow  me  to  treat  you  always 
as  I  do  my  Hattie.  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  derive  as 
much  benefit  from  travelling,  as  I  certainly  hope  for 
Felix." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Andrews,  I  appreciate  your  generosity, 
and  I  prize  the  affection  and  confidence  which  you  and  your 
wife  have  shown  me.  I  came,  an  utter  stranger,  into  your 
house,  and  you  kindly  made  me  one  of  the  family  circle. 
I  am  alone  in  the  world,  and  have  become  strongly  attached 


ST.  ELMO.  453 

to  your  children.  Felix  is  not  merely  my  dear  pupil,  he  is 
my  brother,  my  companion,  my  little  darling !  I  can  not  be 
separated  from  him.  Next  to  his  mother  he  belongs  to  me. 
Oh !  I  will  travel  with  him  anywhere  that  you  and  Mrs. 
Andrews  think  it  best  he  should  go.  I  will  never,  never 
leave  him." 

She  disengaged  the  boy's  arms,  laid  him  back  on  his  pil 
lows,  and  went  to  her  own  room. 

In  the  midst  of  prompt  preparations  for  departure  Edna's 
new  novel  appeared.  She  had  christened  it  "SHINING 
THORNS  ON  THE  HEARTH/'  and  dedicated  it  "To  my  coun 
trywomen,  the  Queens  who  reign  thereon." 

The  aim  of  the  book  was  to  discover  the  only  true  and 
allowable  and  womanly  sphere  of  feminine  work,  and, 
though  the  theme  was  threadbare,  she  fearlessly  picked  up 
the  frayed  woof  and  rewove  it. 

The  tendency  of  the  age  was  to  equality  and  communism, 
and  this,  she  contended,  was  undermining  the  golden 
thrones  shining  in  the  blessed  and  hallowed  light  of  the 
hearth,  whence  every  true  woman  ruled  the  realm  of  her 
own  family.  Regarding  every  pseudo  "reform"  which 
struck  down  the  social  and  political  distinction  of  the  sexes, 
as  a  blow  that  crushed  one  of  the  pillars  of  woman's  throne, 
she  earnestly  warned  the  Crowned  Heads  of  the  danger  to  be 
apprehended  from  the  unfortunate  and  deluded  female  mal 
contents,  who,  dethroned  in  their  own  realm,  and  despised 
by  their  quondam  subjects,  roamed  as  pitiable,  royal  exiles, 
threatening  to  usurp  man's  kingdom ;  and  to  proud,  happy 
mothers,  guarded  by  Praetorian  bands  of  children,  she  re 
iterated  the  assurance  that 

"  Those  who  rock  the  cradle  rule  the  world." 

Most  carefully  she  sifted  the  records  of  history,  tracing 
in  every  epoch  the  sovereigns  of  the  hearth-throne  who  had 
reigned  wisely  and  contentedly,  ennobling  and  refining 
humanity;  and  she  proved  by  illustrious  examples  that  the 
borders  of  the  feminine  realm  could  not  be  enlarged,  with 
out  rendering  the  throne  unsteady,  and  subverting  God's 
law  of  order.  Woman  reigned  by  divine  right  only  at 
home.  If  married,  in  the  hearts  of  husband  and  children, 


454  ST-  ELMO. 

and  not  in  the  gilded,  bedizened  palace  of  fashion,  where 
thinly  veiled  vice  and  frivolity  hold  carnival,  and  social 
upas  and  social  asps  wave  and  trail.  If  single,  in  the  affec 
tions  of  brothers  and  sisters  and  friends,  as  the  golden 
sceptre  in  the  hands  of  parents.  If  orphaned,  she  should 
find  sympathy  and  gratitude  and  usefulness  among  the  poor 
and  the  afflicted. 

Consulting  the  statistics  of  single  women,  and  familiariz 
ing  herself  with  the  arguments  advanced  by  the  advocates 
of  that  "progress,"  which  would  indiscriminately  throw 
open  all  professions  to  women,  she  entreated  the  poor  of 
her  own  sex,  if  ambitious,  to  become  sculptors,  painters, 
writers,  teachers  in  schools  or  families;  or  else  to  remain 
mantau-makers,  milliners,  spinners,  dairymaids;  but  on  the 
peril  of  all  womanhood  not  to  meddle  with  scalpel  or  red 
tape,  and  to  shun  rostra  of  all  description,  remembering  St. 
Paul's  injunction,  that  "It  is  not  permitted  unto  women  to 
speak" ;  and  even  that  "It  is  a  shame  for  women  to  speak  in 
the  church." 

To  married  women  who  thirsted  for  a  draught  of  the 
turbid  waters  of  politics,  she  said:  "If  you  really  desire 
to  serve  the  government  under  which  you  live,  recollect  that 
it  was  neither  the  speeches  thundered  from  the  forum,  nor 
the  prayers  of  priests  and  augurs,  nor  the  iron  tramp  of 
glittering  legions,  but  the  ever  triumphant,  maternal  influ 
ence,  the  potent,  the  pleading  'My  son!'  of  Volumnia,  the 
mother  of  Coriolanus,  that  saved  Rome." 

To  discontented  spinsters,  who  travelled  like  Pandora 
over  the  land,  haranguing  audiences  that  secretly  laughed 
at  and  despised  them,  to  these  unfortunate  women,  clamor 
ing  for  power  and  influence  in  the  national  councils,  she 
pointed  out  that  quiet,  happy  home  at  "Barley  Wood," 
whence  immortal  Hannah  More  sent  forth  those  writings 
which  did  more  to  tranquilize  England,  and  bar  the  hearts 
cf  its  yeomanry  against  the  temptations  of  red  republican 
ism  than  all  the  eloquence  of  Burke,  and  the  cautious  meas 
ures  of  Parliament. 

Some  errors  of  style,  which  had  been  pointed  out  by 
critics  as  marring  her  earlier  writings,  Edna  had  endeav 
ored  to  avoid  in  this  book,  which  she  humbly  offered  to  her 
countrywomen  as  the  best  of  which  she  was  capable. 


ST.  ELMO.  455 

From  the  day  of  its  appearance  it  was  a  success ;  and 
she  had  the  gratification  of  hearing  that  some  of  the  seed 
she  had  sown  broadcast  in  the  land  fell  upon  good  ground, 
and  promised  an  abundant  harvest. 

Many  who  called  to  bid  her  good-bye  on  the  day  before 
the  steamer  sailed,  found  it  impossible  to  disguise  their  ap 
prehensions  that  she  would  never  return;  and  some  who 
looked  tearfully  into  her  face  and  whispered  "God-speed!" 
thought  they  saw  the  dread  signet  of  death  set  on  her  white 
brow. 

To  Edna  it  was  inexpressibly  painful  to  cross  the  Atlantic 
while  Mr.  Hammond's  health  was  so  feeble;  and  over  the 
long  farewell  letter  which  she  sent  him,  with  a  copy  of  her 
new  book,  the  old  man  wept.  Mrs.  Murray  had  seemed 
entirely  estranged  since  that  last  day  spent  at  Le  Bocage, 
and  had  not  written  a  line  since  the  orphan's  return  to  New 
York.  But  when  she  received  the  new  novel,  and  the  affec 
tionate,  mournful,  meek  note  that  accompanied  it,  Mrs. 
Murray  laid  her  head  on  her  son's  bosom  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Dr.  Howell  and  Mr.  Manning  went  with  Edna  aboard 
the  steamer,  and  both  laughed  heartily  at  her  efforts  to  dis 
engage  herself  from  a  pertinacious  young  book-vender,  who, 
with  his  arms  full  of  copies  of  her  own  book,  stopped  her 
on  deck,  and  volubly  extolled  its  merits,  insisting  that  she 
should  buy  one  to  while  away  the  tedium  of  the  voyage. 

Dr.  Howell  gave  final  directions  concerning  the  treat 
ment  of  Felix,  and  then  came  to  speak  to  the  governess. 

"Even  now,  sadly  as  you  have  abused  your  constitution, 
I  shall  have  some  hope  of  seeing  gray  hairs  about  your 
temples,  if  you  will  give  yourself  unreservedly  to  relaxa 
tion  of  mind.  You  have  already  accomplished  so  much  that 
you  can  certainly  afford  to  rest  for  some  months  at  least. 
Read  nothing,  write  nothing  (except  long  letters  to  me), 
study  nothing  but  the  aspects  of  nature  in  European  scenery, 
and  you  will  come  back  improved  to  the  country  that  is  so 
justly  proud  of  you.  Disobey  my  injunctions,  and  I  shall 
soon  be  called  to  mourn  over  the  announcement  that  you 
have  found  an  early  grave,  far  from  your  native  land,  and 
among  total  strangers.  God  bless  you,  dear  child !  and  bring 
you  safely  back  to  us." 


456  ST.  ELMO. 

As  he  turned  away,  Mr.  Manning  took  her  hand  and 
said: 

"I  hope  to  meet  you  in  Rome  early  in  February ;  but 
something  might  occur  to  veto  my  programme.  If  I  should 
never  see  you  again  in  this  world,  is  there  anything  that  you 
wish  to  say  to  me  now  ?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Manning.  If  I  should  die  in  Europe,  have  my 
body  brought  back  to  America  and  carried  to  the  South — • 
my  own  dear  South,  that  I  love  so  well — and  bury  me  close 
to  Grandpa,  where  I  can  sleep  quietly  in  the  cool  shadow  of 
old  Lookout ;  and  be  sure,  please  be  sure,  to  have  my  name 
carved  just  below  Grandpa's,  on  his  monument.  I  want 
that  one  marble  to  stand  for  us  both." 

"I  will.    Is  there  nothing  else?" 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,  good,  kind  friend.     Nothing  else." 

"Edna,  promise  me  that  you  will  take  care  of  your  preci 
ous  life." 

"I  will  try,  Mr.  Manning." 

He  looked  down  into  her  worn,  weary  face  and  sighed, 
then  for  the  first  time  he  took  both  her  hands,  kissed  them 
and  left  her. 

Swiftly  the  steamer  took  its  way  seaward;  through  the 
Narrows,  past  the  lighthouse;  and  the  wind  sang  through 
the  rigging,  and  the  purple  hills  of  Jersey  faded  from  view, 
proving  Neversink  a  misnomer. 

One  by  one  the  passengers  went  below  and  Edna  and 
Felix  were  left  on  deck,  with  stars  burning  above,  and  blue 
waves  bounding  beneath  them. 

As  the  cripple  sat  looking  over  the  solemn,  moaning 
ocean,  awed  by  its  brooding  gloom,  did  he  catch  in  the 
silvery  starlight  a  second  glimpse  of  the  rose-colored  veils, 
and  snowy  vittse,  and  purple-edged  robes  of  the  Parcse, 
spinning  and  singing  as  they  followed  the  ship  across  the 
sobbing  sea?  He  shivered,  and  clasping  tightly  the  hand 
of  his  governess,  said : 

"Edna,  we  shall  never  see  the  Neversink  again." 

"God  only  knows,  dear  Felix.    His  will  be  done." 

"  How  silvery  the  echoes  run — 
Thy  will  be  done — Thy  will  be  done." 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

"WORTHY?  No,  no!  Unworthy!  most  unworthy!  But 
was  Thomas  worthy  to  tend  the  wandering  sheep  of  Him, 
whom  face  to  face  he  doubted?  Was  Peter  worthy  to 
preach  the  Gospel  of  Him,  whom  he  had  thrice  indignantly 
denied?  Was  Paul  worthy  to  beccme  the  Apostle  of  the 
Gentiles,  teaching  the  doctrine  of  Him  whose  disciples  he 
had  persecuted  and  slaughtered?  If  the  repentance  of 
Peter  and  Paul  availed  to  purify  their  hands  and  hearts, 
and  sanctify  them  to  the  service  of  Christ,  ah!  God  knows 
my  contrition  has  been  bitter  and  lasting  enough  to  fit  me 
for  future  usefulness.  Eight  months  ago,  when  the  desire 
to  become  a  minister  seized  me  so  tenaciously,  I  wrestled 
with  it,  tried  to  crush  it ;  arguing  that  the  knowledge  of  my 
past  life  of  sin  fulness  would  prevent  the  world  from  trust 
ing  my  professions.  But  those  who  even  slightly  under 
stand  my  character,  must  know  that  I  have  always  been  too 
utterly  indifferent  to,  too  unfortunately  contemptuous  of 
public  opinoin,  to  stoop  to  any  deception  in  order  to  con 
ciliate  it.  Moreover,  the  world  will  realize  that  in  a  mere 
worldly  point  of  view,  I  can  possibly  hope  to  gain  nothing 
by  this  step.  If  I  were  poor,  I  might  be  accused  of  wanting 
the  loaves  and  fishes  of  the  profession;  if  unknown  and 
ambitious,  of  seeking  eminence  and  popularity.  But  when 
a  man  of  my  wealth  and  social  position,  after  spending  half 
of  his  life  in  luxurious  ease  and  sinful  indulgence,  volun 
tarily  subjects  himself  to  the  rigid  abstemiousness  and  self- 
sacrificing  requirements  of  a  ministerial  career,  he  can  not 
be  suspected  of  hypocrisy.  After  all,  sir,  I  care  not  for  the 
discussion,  of  nine  days'  gossip  and  wonder,  the  gibes  and 
comments  my  course  may  occasion.  I  am  hearkening  to  the 
counsel  of  my  conscience;  I  am  obeying  the  dictates  of  my 
heart.  Feeling  that  my  God  accepts  me,  it  matters  little 
that  men  may  reject  me.  My  remorse,  my  repentance,  has 
been  inexpressibly  bitter ;  but  the  darkness  has  passed  away, 

[457] 


458  ST.  ELMO. 

and  to-day,  thank  God!  I  can  pray  with  all  the  fervor  and 
faith  of  my  boyhood,  when  I  knew  that  I  was  at  peace  with 
my  Maker.  Oblivion  of  the  past  I  do  not  expect,  and  per 
haps  should  not  desire.  I  shall  always  wear  my  melancholy 
memories  of  sin,  as  Musselmen  wear  their  turban  or  pall — 
as  a  continual  memento  of  death.  Because  I  have  proved 
so  fully  the  inadequacy  of  earthly  enjoyments  to  satisfy  the 
demands  of  a  soul;  because  I  tried  the  alluring  pleasures 
of  sin,  and  was  satiated,  ah !  utterly  sickened,  I  turned  with 
panting  eagerness  to  the  cool,  quiet  peace  which  reigns  over 
the  life  of  a  true  Christian  pastor.  I  want  neither  fame  nor 
popularity,  but  peace!  peace  I  must  have!  I  have  hunted 
the  world  over  and  over ;  I  have  sought  it  everywhere  else, 
and  now,  thank  God!  I  feel  that  it  is  descending  slowly, 
slowly,  but  surely,  upon  my  lonely,  long-tortured  heart. 
Thank  God !  I  have  found  peace  after  much  strife  and  great 
weariness " 

Mr.  Murray  could  no  longer  control  his  voice ;  and  as  he 
stood  leaning  against  the  mantelpiece  at  the  parsonage,  he 
dropped  his  head  on  his  hand. 

"St.  Elmo,  the  purity  of  your  motives  will  never  be  ques 
tioned,  for  none  who  knows  you  could  believe  you  capable 
of  dissembling  in  this  matter;  and  my  heart  can  scarcely 
contain  its  joy  when  I  look  forward  to  your  future,  so 
bright  with  promise,  so  full  of  usefulness.  The  marked 
change  in  your  manner  during  the  past  two  years  has  pre 
pared  this  community  for  the  important  step  you  are  to 
take  to-day,  and  your  influence  with  young  men  will  be  in 
calculable.  Once  your  stern  bitterness  rendered  you  an 
object  of  dread ;  now  I  find  that  you  are  respected,  and 
people  here  watch  your  conduct  with  interest,  and  even  with 
anxiety.  Ah,  St.  Elmo,  I  never  imagined  earth  held  as 
much  pure  happiness  as  is  my  portion  to-day.  To  see  you 
one  of  God's  anointed !  To  see  you  ministering  in  the  tem 
ple!  Oh!  to  know  that  when  I  am  gone  to  rest  you  will 
take  my  place,  guard  my  flock,  do  your  own  work  and  poor 
Murray's,  and  finish  mine !  This,  this  is  indeed  the  crown 
ing  blessing  of  my  old  age." 

For  some  minutes,  Mr.  Hammond  sobbed;  and  lifting 
his  face,  Mr.  Murray  answered: 

"As  I  think  of  the  coming  years  consecrated  to  Christ, 


ST.  ELMO.  459 

passed  peacefully  in  endeavoring  to  atone  for  the  injury 
and  suffering  I  have  inflicted  on  my  fellow-creatures;  oh! 
as  the  picture  of  a  calm,  useful,  holy  future  rises  before  me, 
I  feel  indeed  that  I  am  unworthy,  most  unworthy  of  my 
peace ;  but,  thank  God ! 

'  Oh !  I  see  the  crescent  promise  of  my  spirit  hath  not  set ; 
Ancient  founts  of  inspiration  well  through  all  my  fancy  yet.' " 

It  was  a  beautiful  Sabbath  morning,  just  one  year  after 
Edna's  departure,  and  the  church  was  crowded  to  its  utmost 
capacity,  for  people  had  come  for  many  miles  around  to 
witness  a  ceremony,  the  announcement  of  which  had  given 
rise  to  universal  comment.  As  the  hour  approached  for  the 
ordination  of  St.  Elmo  Murray  to  the  ministry  of  Jesus 
Christ,  even  the  doors  were  filled  with  curious  spectators ; 
and  when  Mr.  Hammond  and  St.  Elmo  walked  down  the 
aisle,  and  the  old  man  seated  himself  in  a  chair  within  the 
altar,  there  was  a  general  stir  in  the  congregation. 

The  officiating  minister  had  come  from  a  distant  city  to 
perform  a  ceremony  of  more  than  usual  interest;  and 
when  he  stood  up  in  the  pulpit,  and  the  organ  thundered 
through  the  arches,  St.  Elmo  bowed  his  head  on  his  hand, 
and  sat  thus  during  the  hour  that  ensued. 

The  ordination  sermon  was  solemn  and  eloquent,  and 
preached  from  the  text  in  Romans : 

"For  when  ye  were  the  servants  of  sin,  ye  were  free  from 
righteousness.  But  now  being  made  free  from  sin,  and 
become  servants  to  God,  ye  have  your  fruit  unto  holiness, 
and  the  end  everlasting  life." 

Then  the  minister,  having  finished  his  discourse,  came 
down  before  the  altar  and  commenced  the  services ;  but  Mr. 
Murray  sat  motionless,  with  his  countenance  concealed  by 
his  hand.  Mr.  Hammond  approached  and  touched  him,  and, 
as  he  rose,  led  him  to  the  altar,  and  presented  him  as  a  can 
didate  for  ordination. 

There,  before  the  shining  marble  pulpit  which  he  had 
planned  and  built  in  the  early  years  of  his  life,  for  the  idol 
of  his  youth,  stood  St.  Elmo :  and  the  congregation,  espe 
cially  those  of  his  native  village,  looked  with  involuntary 
admiration  and  pride  at  the  erect,  powerful  form,  clad  in 


460  ST.  ELMO. 

its  suit  of  black — at  the  nobly  proportioned  head,  where 
gray  locks  were  visible. 

"But  if  there  be  any  of  you  who  knoweth  any  impediment 
or  crime,  for  the  which  he  ought  not  to  be  received  into  this 
holy  ministry,  let  him  come  forth,  in  the  name  of  God,  and 
show  what  the  crime  or  impediment  is." 

The  preacher  paused,  the  echo  of  his  words  died  away, 
and  perfect  silence  reigned.  Suddenly  St.  Elmo  raised  his 
eyes  from  the  railing  of  the  altar,  and,  turning  his  face 
slightly,  looked  through  the  eastern  window  at  the  ivy- 
draped  vault  where  slept  Murray  and  Annie.  The  world 
was  silent,  but  conscience  and  the  dead  accused  him.  An 
expression  of  intolerable  pain  crossed  his  handsome  feat 
ures,  then  his  hands  folded  themselves  tightly  together  on 
the  top  of  the  marble  balustrade,  and  he  looked  appealingly 
up  to  the  pale  Jesus  staggering  under  his  cross. 

At  that  instant  a  spotless  white  pigeon  from  the  belfry 
found  its  way  into  the  church  through  the  open  doors,  cir 
cled  once  around  the  building,  fluttered  against  the  win 
dow,  hiding  momentarily  the  crown  of  thorns,  and,  fright 
ened  and  confused,  fell  upon  the  fluted  pillar  of  the  pulpit. 

An  electric  thrill  ran  through  the  congregation;  and  as 
the  minister  resumed  the  services,  he  saw  on  St.  Elmo's  face 
a  light,  a  great  joy,  such  as  human  countenances  rarely  wear 
this  side  of  the  grave. 

When  Mr.  Murray  knelt  and  the  ordaining  hands  were 
laid  upon  his  head,  a  sob  was  heard  from  the  pew  where 
his  mother  sat,  and  the  voice  of  the  preacher  faltered  as 
he  delivered  the  Bible  to  the  kneeling  man,  saying: 

"Take  thou  authority  to  preach  the  word  of  God,  and 
to  administer  the  holy  sacraments  in  the  congregation." 

There  were  no  dry  eyes  in  the  entire  assembly,  save  two 
that  looked  out,  coldly  blue,  from  the  pew  where  Mrs. 
Powell  sat  like  a  statue,  between  her  daughter  and  Gordon 
Leigh. 

Mr.  Hammond  tottered  across  the  altar,  and  knelt  down 
close  to  Mr.  Murray ;  and  many  who  knew  the  history  of 
the  pastor's  family,  wept  as  the  gray  head  fell  on  the  broad 
shoulder  of  St.  Elmo,  whose  arm  was  thrown  around  the 
old  man's  form,  and  the  ordaining  minister,  with  tears  roll- 


ST.  ELMO.  461 

ing  over  his  face,  extended  his  hands  in  benediction  above 
them. 

"The  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding,  keep 
your  hearts  and  minds  in  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God, 
and  of  His  Son  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord;  and  the  blessing  of 
God  Almighty,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  be 
among  you,  and  remain  with  you  alway." 

And  all  hearts  and  lips  present  whispered  "Amen !"  and 
the  organ  and  the  choir  broke  forth  in  a  grand  "Gloria  in 
excelsis." 

Standing  there  at  the  chancel,  purified,  consecrated  hence 
forth  unreservedly  to  CKrist,  Mr.  Murray  looked  so  happy, 
so  noble,  so  worthy  of  his  high  calling,  that  his  proud,  fond 
mother  thought  his  face  was  fit  for  an  archangel's  wings. 

Many  persons  who  had  known  him  in  his  boyhood,  came 
up  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  and  wrung  his  hand  silently. 
At  last  Huldah  pointed  to  the  white  pigeon,  that  was  now 
beating  its  wings  against  the  gilded  pipes  of  the  organ,  and 
said,  in  that  singularly  sweet,  solemn,  hesitating  tone,  with 
which  children  approach  sacred  things: 

"Oh,  Mr.  Murray!  when  it  fell  on  the  pulpit,  it  nearly 
took  my  breath  away,  for  I  almost  thought  it  was  the  Holy 
Ghost." 

Tears,  which  till  then  he  had  bravely  kept  back,  dripped 
over  his  face,  as  he  stooped  and  whispered  to  the  little 
orphan : 

"Huldah,  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  Comforter,  came  indeed; 
but  it  was  not  visible,  it  is  here  in  my  heart." 

The  congregation  dispersed.  Mrs.  Murray  and  the 
preacher  and  Huldah  went  to  the  carriage ;  and,  leaning  on 
Mr.  Murray's  arm,  Mr.  Hammond  turned  to  follow,  but 
observing  that  the  church  was  empty,  the  former  said : 

"After  a  little  I  will  come." 

The  old  man  walked  on,  and  Mr.  Murray  went  back  and 
knelt,  resting  his  head  against  the  beautiful  glittering  balus 
trade,  within  which  he  hoped  to  officiate  through  the  re 
maining  years  of  his  earthly  career. 

Once  the  sexton,  who  was  waiting  to  lock  up  the  church, 
looked  in,  saw  the  man  praying  alone  there  at  the  altar,  and 
softly  stole  away. 

When  St.  Elmo  came  out,  the  churchyard  seemed  de- 


462  ST.  ELMO. 

serted;  but  as  he  crossed  it,  going  homeward,  a  woman 
rose  from  one  of  the  tombstones  and  stood  before  him — 
the  yellow-haired  Jezebel,  with  sapphire  eyes  and  soft, 
treacherous  red  lips,  who  had  goaded  him  to  madness  and 
blasted  the  best  years  of  his  life. 

At  sight  of  her  he  recoiled,  as  if  a  cobra  had  started 
up  in  his  path. 

"St.  Elmo,  my  beloved!  in  the  name  of  other  days  stop 
and  hear  me.  By  the  memory  of  our  early  love,  I  entreat 
you!" 

She  came  close  to  him,  and  the  alabaster  face  was  mar- 
velously  beautiful  in  its  expression  of  penitential  sweet 
ness. 

"St.  Elmo,  can  you  never  forgive  me  for  the  suffering  I 
caused  you  in  my  giddy  girlhood?" 

She  took  his  hand  and  attempted  to  raise  it  to  her  lips ; 
but  shaking  off  her  touch,  he  stepped  back,  and  steadily 
they  looked  in  each  other's  eyes. 

"Agnes,  I  forgive  you.  May  God  pardon  your  sins,  as 
He  has  pardoned  mine!" 

He  turned  away,  but  she  seized  his  coat-sleeve  and  threw 
herself  before  him,  standing  with  both  hands  clasping  his 
arm. 

"If  you  mean  what  you  say,  there  is  happiness  yet  in 
store  for  us.  Oh,  St.  Elmo!  how  often  have  I  longed  to 
come  and  lay  my  head  down  on  your  bosom,  and  tell  you  all. 
But  you  were  so  stern  and  harsh  I  was  afraid.  To-day 
when  I  saw  you  melted,  when  the  look  of  your  boyhood 
came  dancing  back  to  your  dear  eyes,  I  was  encouraged  to 
hope  that  your  heart  had  softened  also  toward  one,  who  so 
long  possessed  it.  Is  there  hope  for  your  poor  Agnes? 
Hope  that  the  blind,  silly  girl,  who,  ignorant  of  the  value 
of  the  treasure,  slighted  and  spurned  it,  may  indeed  be  par 
doned,  when,  as  a  woman  realizing  her  folly,  and  sensible 
at  last  of  the  nobility  of  a  nature  she  once  failed  to  appre 
ciate,  she  comes  and  says — what  it  is  so  hard  for  a  woman 
to  say — 'Take  me  back  to  your  heart,  gather  me  up  in 
your  arms,  as  in  the  olden  days,  because — because  I  love  you 
now;  because  only  your  love  can  make  me  happy.'  St. 
Elmo,  we  are  no  longer  young;  but  believe  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  at  last — at  last — your  own  Agnes  loves  you  as  she 


ST.  ELMO.  463 

never  loved  any  one,  even  in  her  girlhood.  Once  I  pre 
ferred  my  cousin  Murray  to  you ;  but  think  how  giddy  I 
must  have  been,  when  I  could  marry  before  a  year  had  set 
tled  the  sod  on  his  grave?  I  did  not  love  my  husband,  but 
I  married  him  for  the  same  reason  that  I  would  have  mar 
ried  you  then.  And  yet  for  that  there  is  some  palliation.  It 
was  to  save  my  father  from  disgrace  thai  I  sacrificed  my 
self;  for  money  entrusted  to  his  keeping — money  belong 
ing  to  his  orphan  ward — had  been  used  by  him  in  a  ruinous 
speculation,  and  only  prompt  repayment  could  prevent  ex 
posure.  Remember  I  was  so  young,  so  vain,  so  thoughtless 
then!  St.  Elmo,  pity  me!  love  me!  take  me  back  to  your 
heart !  God  is  my  witness  that  I  do  love  you  entirely  now ! 
Dearest,  say,  'Agnes,  I  will  forgive  all,  and  trust  you  and 
love  you  as  in  the  days  long  past.'  " 

She  tried  to  put  her  arms  up  around  his  neck  and  to  rest 
her  head  on  his  shoulder;  but  he  resisted  and  put  her  at 
arm's  length  from  him. 

Holding  her  there,  he  looked  at  her  with  a  cold  scorn  in 
his  eyes,  and  a  heavy  shadow  darkening  the  brow  that  five 
minutes  before  had  been  so  calm,  so  bright. 

"Agnes,  how  dare  you  attempt  to  deceive  me  after  all  that 
has  passed  between  us?  Oh,  woman!  In  the  name  of  all 
true  womanhood  I  could  blush  for  you !" 

She  struggled  to  free  herself,  to  get  closer  to  him,  but  his 
stern  grasp  was  relentless;  and  as  tears  poured  down  her 
cheeks,  she  clasped  her  hands  and  sobbed  out : 

"You  do  not  believe  that  I  really  love  you !  Oh !  do  not 
look  at  me  so  harshly !  I  am  not  deceiving  you ;  as  I  hope 
for  pardon  and  rest  for  my  soul — as  I  hope  to  see  my 
father's  face  in  heaven — I  am  not  deceiving  you!  I  do — I 
do  love  you !  When  I  spoke  to  you  about  Gertrude,  it  cost 
me  a  dreadful  pang;  but  I  thought  you  loved  her  because 
she  resembled  me;  and  for  my  child's  sake  I  crushed  my 
own  hopes — I  wanted,  if  possible,  to  save  her  from  suffer 
ing.  But  you  only  upbraided  and  heaped  savage  sarcasms 
upon  me.  Oh,  St.  Elmo !  if  you  could  indeed  see  my  poor 
heart,  you  would  not  look  so  cruelly  cold.  You  ought  to 
know  that  I  am  terribly  in  earnest  when  I  can  stoop  to  beg 
for  the  ruins  of  a  heart,  which  in  its  freshness  I  once  threw 
away,  and  trampled  on." 


464  ST.  ELMO. 

He  had  seen  her  weep  before,  when  it  suited  her  pur 
pose,  and  he  only  smiled  and  answered: 

"Yes,  Agnes,  you  ruined  and  trampled  it  in  the  mire  of 
sin;  but  I  have  rebuilt  it,  and,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  I  hope 
I  have  purified  it.  Look  you,  woman !  when  you  overturned 
the  temple,  you  crumbled  your  own  image  that  was  set  up 
there;  and  I  long,  long  ago  swept  out  and  gave  to  the 
hungry  winds  the  despised  dust  of  that  broken  idol,  and  over 
my  heart  you  can  reign  no  more !  The  only  queen  it  has 
known  since  that  awful  night  twenty-three  years  ago,  when 
my  faith,  hope,  charity  were  all  strangled  in  an  instant  by  the 
velvet  hand  I  had  kissed  in  my  doting  fondness — the  only 
queen  my  heart  has  acknowledged  since  then,  is  one  who, 
in  her  purity  soars  like  an  angel  above  you  and  me,  and  her 
dear  name  is — Edna  Earl." 

"Edna  Earl! — a  puritanical  fanatic!  Nay,  a  Pharisee! 
A  cold  prude,  a  heartless  blue !  A  woman  with  some  brain 
and  no  feeling,  who  loves  nothing  but  her  own  fame,  and 
has  no  sympathy  with  your  nature.  St.  Elmo,  are  you  in 
sane!  Did  you  not  see  that  letter  from  Estelle  to  your 
mother,  stating  that  she,  Edna,  would  certainly  be  married 
in  February  to  the  celebrated  Mr.  Manning,  who  was  then 
on  his  way  to  Rome  to  meet  her?  Did  you  see  that  letter?" 

"I  did." 

"And  discredit  it?  Blindness,  madness,  equal  to  my  own 
in  the  days  gone  by !  Edna  Earl  exists  no  longer ;  she  was 
married  a  month  ago.  Here,  read  for  yourself,  or  you  will 
believe  that  I  fabricate  the  whole." 

She  held  a  newspaper  before  his  eyes  and  he  saw  a  para 
graph,  marked  with  a  circle  of  ink,  "Marriage  in  Literary 
Circles" : 

"The  very  reliable  correspondent  of  the  Nev  York 

writes  from  Rome  that  the  Americans  now  in  that  city  are 
on  the  qui  vive  concerning  a  marriage  announced  to  take 
place  on  Thursday  next  at  the  residence  of  the  American 
Minister.  The  very  distinguished  parties  are  Miss  Edna 
Earl,  the  gifted  and  exceedingly  popular  young  authoress, 
whose  works  have  given  her  an  enviable  reputation,  even 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and  Mr.  Douglass  G.  Manning, 
the  well-known  and  able  editor  of  the Magazine.  The 


ST.  ELMO.  465 

happy  pair  will  start,  immediately  after  the  ceremony,  on 
a  tour  through  Greece  and  the  Holy  Land." 

Mr.  Murray  opened  the  paper,  glanced  at  the  date,  and 
his  swarthy  face  paled  as  he  put  his  hands  over  his  eyes. 

Mrs.  Powell  came  nearer,  and  once  more  touched  his 
hand;  but,  with  a  gesture  of  disgust,  he  pushed  her  aside. 

"Away !  Not  a  word — not  one  word  more !  You  are  not 
worthy  to  take  my  darling's  name  upon  your  lips !  She 
may  be  Manning's  wife — God  forbid  it! — or  she  may  be  in 
her  grave.  I  have  lost  her,  I  know ;  but  if  I  never  see  her 
dear  angel  face  again  in  this  world,  it  will  be  in  consequence 
of  my  sins,  and  of  yours;  and  with  God's  help  I  mean  to 
live  out  the  remainder  of  my  days,  so  that  at  last  I  shall 
meet  her  in  eternity !  Leave  me,  Agnes  !  Do  not  make  me 
forget  the  vows  I  have  to-day  taken  upon  myself,  in  the 
presence  of  the  world  and  of  my  Maker.  In  future,  keep  out 
of  my  path,  which  will  never  cross  yours;  do  not  rouse  the 
old  hate  toward  you,  which  I  am  faithfully  striving  to  over 
come.  The  first  time  I  went  to  the  communion-table,  after 
the  lapse  of  all  those  dreary  years  of  sin  and  desperation,  I 
asked  myself,  'Have  I  a  right  to  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper? — can  I  face  God  and  say  I  forgive  Agnes  Powell?' 
Finally,  after  a  hard  struggle,  I  said,  from  the  depths  of 
my  heart,  'Even  as  I  need  and  hope  for  forgiveness  myself, 
I  do  fully  forgive  her.'  Mark  you,  it  was  my  injuries  that 
I  pardoned,  your  treachery  that  I  forgave.  But  recollect 
there  is  a  mournful  truth  in  those  words — There  is  no  par 
don  for  desecrated  ideals!  Once,  in  the  flush  of  my  youth, 
I  selected  you  as  the  beau  ideal  of  beautiful,  perfect  woman 
hood  ;  but  you  fell  from  that  lofty  pedestal  where  my  ardent, 
boyish  love  set  you  for  worship,  and  you  dragged  me  down, 
down,  almost  beyond  the  pale  of  God's  mercy!  I  forgive 
all  my  wrongs,  but  'take  you  back,  love  you?'  Ah!  I  can 
never  love  anyone,  I  never,  even  in  my  boyhood,  loved  you, 
as  I  love  my  pure  darling,  my  own  Edna !  Her  memory  is 
all  I  have  to  cheer  me  in  my  lonely  work.  I  do  not  believe 
that  she  is  married ;  no,  no,  but  she  is  in  her  grave.  For 
many  days  past  I  have  been  oppressed  by  a  horrible  pre 
sentiment  that  she  has  gone  to  her  rest  in  Christ — that  the 
next  steamer  will  bring  me  tidings  of  her  death.  Do  not 
touch  me,  Agnes!  If  there  be  any  truth  in  what  you  have 


466  ST.  ELMO. 

to-day  asserted  so  solemnly  (though  I  can  not  believe  it, 
for  if  you  ridiculed  and  disliked  me  in  my  noble  youth,  how 
can  you  love  the  same  man  in  the  melancholy  wreck  of  his 
hopes?),  if  there  be  a  shadow  of  truth  in  your  words,  you 
are  indeed  to  be  pitied.  Ah!  you  and  I  have  learned  at  a 
terrible  price  the  deceitfulness  of  riches,  the  holtowness  of 
this  world's  pleasures ;  and  both  have  writhed  under  the 
poisonous  fangs  that  always  dart  from  the  dregs  of  the  cup 
of  sin,  which  you  and  I  have  drained.  Experience  must 
have  taught  you,  also,  what  I  was  so  long  in  learning — the 
utter  hopelessness  of  peace  for  heart  and  soul  save  only 
through  that  religion,  which  so  far  subdues  even  my  sinful, 
vindictive,  satanic  nature,  that  I  can  say  to  you — you  who 
blasted  all  my  earthly  happiness — I  forgive  you  my  suffer 
ings,  and  hope  that  God  will  give  you  that  pardon  and  com 
fort  which  after  awful  conflicts  I  have  found  at  last.  Sev 
eral  times  you  have  thrust  yourself  into  my  presence;  but 
if  there  remains  any  womanly  delicacy  in  your  nature  you 
will  avoid  me  henceforth  when  I  tell  you  that  I  loath  the 
sight  of  one  whose  un womanliness  stabbed  my  trust  in 
womanhood,  and  sunk  me  so  low  that  I  lost  Edna  Earl. 
Agnes,  go  yonder — where  I  have  spent  so  many  hours  of 
agony — yonder  to  the  graves  of  your  victims  as  well  as 
mine.  Go  down  on  your  knees  yonder,  and  pray  for  your 
self,  and  may  God  help  you!" 

He  pointed  to  the  gray  vault  and  the  slab  that  covered 
Annie  and  Murray  Hammond ;  and  disengaging  her  fingers, 
which  still  clutched  his  sleeve,  he  turned  quickly  and  walked 
away. 

Her  mournful  eyes,  strained  wide  and  full  of  tears,  fol 
lowed  him  till  his  form  was  no  longer  visible;  and  sinking 
down  on  the  monument — whence  she  had  risen  at  his  ap 
proach — she  shrouded  her  fair,  delicate  features,  and  rocked 
herself  to  and  fro. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

"How  LOVELY  !  Oh !  I  did  not  think  there  was  any  place 
half  so  beautiful  this  side  of  heaven!" 

With  his  head  on  his  mother's  bosom,  Felix  lay  near  the 
window  of  an  upper  room,  looking  out  over  the  Gulf  of 
Genoa. 

The  crescent  curve  of  the  olive-mantled  Apennines  gir 
dled  the  city  in  a  rocky  clasp,  and  mellowed  by  distance  and 
the  magic  enamelling  of  evening  light,  each  particular  peak 
rose  against  the  chrysoprase  sky  like  a  pyramid  of  lapis 
lazuli,  around  whose  mighty  base  rolled  soft  waves  of 
golden  haze. 

Over  the  glassy  bosom  of  the  gulf,  where  glided  boats 
filled  with  gay,  pleasure-seeking  Italians,  floated  the  merry 
strains  of  a  barcarole,  with  the  silvery  echo  of  "Fidulin" 
keeping  time  with  the  silvery  gleam  of  the  dipping  oars. 

"And  the  sun  went  into  the  west,  and  down 
Upon  the  water  stooped  an  orange  cloud, 
And  the  pale  milky  reaches  flushed,  as  glad 
To  wear  its  colors ;  and  the  sultry  air 
Went  out  to  sea,  and  puffed  the  sails  of  ships 
With  thymy  wafts,  the  breath  of  trodden  grass." 

"Lift  me  up,  mamma !  higher,  higher  yet.  I  want  to  see 
the  sun.  There!  it  has  gone — gone  down  into  the  sea.  I 
can't  bear  to  see  it  set  to-day.  It  seemed  to  say  good-bye 
to  me  just  then.  Oh,  mamma,  mamma!  I  don't  want  to 
die.  The  world  is  so  beautiful,  and  life  is  so  sweet  up  here 
in  the  sunshine  and  the  starlight,  and  it  is  so  cold  and  dark 
down  there  in  the  grave.  Oh !  where  is  Edna  ?  Tell  her  to 
come  quick  and  sing  something  to  me." 

The  cripple  shuddered  and  shut  his  eyes.  He  had  wasted 
away,  until  he  looked  a  mere  shadow  of  humanity,  and  his 
governess  stooped  and  took  him  from  his  mother's  arms  as 
if  he  were  a  baby. 

"Edna,  talk  to  me!  Oh!  don't  let  me  get  afraid  to  die. 
j " 

[467] 


468  ST.  ELMO. 

She  laid  her  lips  on  his,  and  the  touch  calmed  their  shiv 
ering;  and,  after  a  moment,  she  began  to  repeat  the  apoca 
lyptic  vision  of  heaven: 

"And  there  shall  be  no  night  there ;  and  they  need  no 
candle,  neither  light  of  the  sun;  for  the  Lord  God  giveth 
them  light;  and  they  shall  reign  for  ever  and  ever." 

"But,  Edna,  the  light  does  not  shine  down  there  in  the 
grave.  If  you  could  go  with  me " 

"A  better  and  kinder  Friend  will  go  with  you,  dear 
Felix." 

She  sang  with  strange  pathos  "Motet,"  that  beautiful  ar 
rangement  of  "The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd." 

As  she  reached  that  part  where  the  words,  "Yea,  though 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,"  are  re 
peated,  the  weak,  quavering  voice  of  the  sick  boy  joined 
hers;  and,  when  she  ceased,  the  emaciated  face  was  placid, 
the  great  dread  had  passed  away  for  ever. 

Anxious  to  divert  his  thoughts,  she  put  into  his  hand  a 
bunch  of  orange  flowers  and  violets,  which  had  been  sent 
to  her  that  day  by  Mr.  Manning;  and  taking  a  book  from 
the  bed,  she  resumed  the  reading  of  "The  Shepherd  of  Salis 
bury  Plain,"  to  which  the  invalid  had  never  wearied  of  lis 
tening. 

But  she  soon  saw  that  for  once  he  was  indifferent;  and, 
understanding  the  expression  of  the  eyes  that  gazed  out  on 
the  purple  shadows  shrouding  the  Apennines,  she  closed  the 
volume,  and  laid  the  sufferer  back  on  his  pillow. 

While  she  was  standing  before  a  table,  preparing  some 
nourishment  to  be  given  to  him  during  the  night,  Mrs.  An 
drews  came  close  to  her  and  whispered : 

"Do  you  see  much  change  ?  Is  he  really  worse,  or  do  my 
fears  magnify  every  bad  symptom?" 

"He  is  much  exhausted,  but  I  trust  the  stimulants  will 
revive  him.  You  must  go  to  bed  early,  and  get  a  good 
sound  sleep,  for  you  look  worn  out.  I  will  wake  you  if  I 
see  any  decided  change  in  him." 

Mrs.  Andrews  hung  for  some  time  over  her  child's  pillow, 
caressing  him,  saying  tender,  soothing,  motherly  things ; 
and,  after  a  while,  she  and  Hattie  kissed  him,  and  went  into 
the  adjoining  room,  leaving  him  to  the  care  of  one  whom  he 
loved  better  than  all  the  world  beside. 


ST.  ELMO.  469 

It  was  late  at  night  before  the  sound  of  laughter,  song 
and  chatter  died  away  in  the  streets  of  Genoa  the  mag 
nificent.  While  the  human  tide  ebbed  and  flowed  under 
the  windows,  Felix  was  restless,  and  his  companion  tried 
to  interest  him  by  telling  him  the  history  of  the  Dorias,  and 
of  the  siege  during  which  Massena  won  such  glory.  Her 
conversation  drifted  away,  even  to  Ancona,  and  that  sad, 
but  touching  incident,  which  Sismondi  records,  of  the  noble, 
patriotic  young  mother,  who  gave  to  a  starving  soldier  the 
milk  that  her  half-famished  babe  required,  and  sent  him, 
thus  refreshed  and  strengthened,  to  defend  the  walls  of  her 
beleaguered  city. 

The  boy's  fondness  for  history  showed  itself  even  then, 
and  he  listened  attentively  to  her  words. 

At  length  silence  reigned  through  the  marble  palaces,  and 
Edna  rose  to  place  the  small  lamp  in  an  alabaster  vase. 

As  she  did  so,  something  flew  into  her  face,  and  fluttered 
to  the  edge  of  the  vase,  and  as  she  attempted  to  brush  it 
off,  she  started  back,  smothering  a  cry  of  horror.  It  was 
the  Sphinx  Atropos,  the  Death's  Head  Moth ;  and  there, 
upon  its  breast,  appallingly  distinct,  grinned  the  ghastly, 
gray  human  skull.  Twice  it  circled  rapidly  round  the  vase, 
uttering  strange,  stridulous  sounds,  then  floated  up  to  the 
canopy  overarching  Felix's  bed,  and  poised  itself  on  the 
carved  frame,  waiting  and  flapping  its  wings,  vulture-like. 
Shuddering  from  head  to  foot,  notwithstanding  the  protest 
which  reason  offered  against  superstition,  the  governess  sat 
down  to  watch  the  boy's  slumber. 

His  eyes  were  closed,  and  she  hoped  that  he  slept;  but 
presently  he  feebly  put  out  his  skeleton  hand  and  took  hers. 

"Edna,  mamma  cannot  hear  me,  can  she?" 

"She  is  asleep,  but  I  will  wake  her  if  you  wish  it." 

"No,  she  would  only  begin  to  cry,  and  that  would  worry 

me.  Edna,  I  want  you  to  promise  me  one  thing "  He 

paused  a  few  seconds  and  sighed  wearily. 

"When  you  all  go  back  home,  don't  leave  me  here  ;  take  me 
with  you,  and  lay  my  poor  little  deformed  body  in  the 
ground  at  'The  Willows,'  where  the  sea  will  sing  over  me. 
We  were  so  happy  there !  I  always  thought  I  should  like 
my  grave  to  be  under  the  tallest  willow,  where  our  canary's 
cage  used  to  hang.  Edna,  I  don't  think  you  will  live  long — 


470 


ST.  ELMO. 


I  almost  hope  you  won't — and  I  want  you  to  promise  me, 
too,  that  you  will  tell  them  to  bury  us  close  together;  so 
that  the  very  moment  I  rise  out  of  my  grave,  on  the  day 
of  judgment,  I  will  see  your  face!  Sometimes,  when  I 
think  of  the  millions  and  millions  that  will  be  pressing  up 
for  their  trial  before  God's  throne,  on  that  great,  awful  day. 
I  am  afraid  I  might  lose  or  miss  you  in  the  crowd,  and 
never  find  you  again;  but,  you  know,  if  our  coffins  touch, 
you  can  stretch  out  your  hand  to  me  as  you  rise,  and  we 
can  go  together.  Oh !  I  want  your  face  to  be  the  last  I  see 
here,  and  the  first — yonder." 

He  raised  his  fingers  slowly,  and  they  fell  back  wearily  on 
the  coverlet. 

"Don't  talk  so,  Felix.  Oh,  my  darling !  God  will  not  take 
you  away  from  me.  Try  to  sleep,  shut  your  eyes ;  you  need 
rest  to  compose  you." 

She  knelt  down,  kissed  him  repeatedly,  and  laid  her  face 
close  to  his  on  the  pillow ;  and  he  tried  to  turn  and  put  his 
emaciated  arm  around  her  neck. 

"Edna,  I  have  been  a  trouble  to  you  for  a  long  time,  but 
you  will  miss  me  when  I  am  gone,  and  you  will  have  noth 
ing  to  love.  If  you  live  long,  marry  Mr.  Manning,  and  let 
him  take  care  of  you.  Don't  work  so  hard,  dear  Edna ; 
only  rest,  and  let  him  make  you  happy.  Before  I  knew 
you  I  was  always  wishing  to  die ;  but  now  I  hate  to  leave 
you  all  alone,  my  own  dear,  pale  Edna." 

"Oh,  Felix,  darling !  hush !  Go  to  sleep.  You  wring  my 
heart!" 

Her  sobs  distressed  him,  and,  feebly  patting  her  cheek, 
he  said : 

"Perhaps  if  you  will  sing  me  something  low,  I  may  go  to 
sleep,  and  I  want  to  hear  your  voice  once  more.  Sing  me 
that  song  about  the  child  and  the  rose-bush,  that  Hattie  likes 
so  much." 

"Not  that !  anything  but  that !  It  is  too  sad,  my  precious 
little  darling." 

"But  I  want  to  hear  it ;  please,  Edna." 

It  was  a  painful  task  that  he  imposed,  but  his  wishes  ruled 
her ;  and  she  tried  to  steady  her  voice  as  she  sang,  in  a  very 
low,  faltering  tone,  the  beautiful,  but  melancholy  ballad. 


ST.  ELMO.  471 

Tears  rolled  over  her  face  as  she  chanted  the  verses;  and 
when  she  concluded,  he  repeated  very  faintly: 

\ 

"  Sweetly  it  rests,  and  on  dream-wings  flies, 
To  play  with  the  angels  in  paradise !  " 

He  nestled  his  lips  to  hers,  and,  after  a  little  while,  mur 
mured  : 

"Good-night,  Edna!" 

"Good-night,  my  darling!"' 

She  gave  him  a  stimulating  potion,  and  arranged  his 
head  comfortably.  Ere  long  his  heavy  breathing  told  her 
that  he  slept,  and,  stealing  from  his  side,  she  sat  down  in 
a  large  chair  near  the  head  of  his  bed,  and  watched  him. 

For  many  months  he  had  been  failing,  and  they  had 
travelled  from  place  to  place,  hoping  against  hope  that  each 
change  would  certainly  be  beneficial. 

Day  and  night  Edna  had  nursed  him,  had  devoted  every 
thought,  almost  every  prayer  to  him;  and  now  her  heart 
seemed  centred  in  him.  Scenery,  music,  painting,  rare  MSS., 
all  were  ignored;  she  lived  only  for  that  poor  dependent 
boy,  and  knew  not  a  moment  of  peace  when  separated  from 
him.  She  had  ceased  to  study  aught  but  his  comfort  and 
happiness,  had  written  nothing  save  letters  to  friends;  and 
notwithstanding  her  anxiety  concerning  the  cripple,  the 
frequent  change  of  air  had  surprisingly  improved  her  own 
health.  For  six  months  she  had  escaped  the  attacks  so 
much  dreaded,  and  1  ^gan  to  believe  her  restoration  com 
plete,  though  the  long  banished  color  obstinately  refused  to 
return  to  her  face,  which  seemed  unable  to  recover  its 
rounded  outline.  Still,  she  was  very  grateful  for  the  im 
munity  from  suffering,  especially  as  it  permitted  more  un 
remitting  attendance  upon  Felix. 

She  knew  that  his  life  was  flickering  out  gently  but 
surely ;  and  now,  as  she  watched  the  pale,  pinched  features, 
her  own  quivered,  and  she  clasped  her  hands  and  wept,  and 
stifled  a  groan. 

She  had  prayed  so  passionately  and  continually  that  he 
might  be  spared  to  her ;  but  it  seemed  that  whenever  her 
heart-strings  wrapped  themselves  around  an  idol,  a  jealous 
God  tore  them  loose,  and  snatched  away  the  dear  object,  and 


472 


ST.  ELMO. 


left  the  heart  to  bleed.  If  that  boy  died,  how  utterly  deso 
late  and  lonely  she  would  be;  nothing  left  to  care  for  and 
to  cling  to,  nothing  to  claim  as  her  own,  and  anoint  with 
the  tender  love  of  her  warm  heart. 

She  had  been  so  intensely  interested  in  the  expansion  of 
his  mind,  had  striven  so  tirelessly  to  stimulate  his  brain, 
and  soften  and  purify  his  heart;  she  had  been  so  proud  of 
his  rapid  progress,  and  so  ambitious  for  his  future,  and  now 
the  mildew  of  death  was  falling  on  her  fond  hopes.  Ah! 
she  had  borne  patiently  many  trials,  but  this  appeared  un 
endurable.  She  had  set  all  her  earthly  happiness  on  a  little 
thing — the  life  of  a  helpless  cripple;  and  as  she  gazed 
through  her  tears  at  that  shrunken,  sallow  face,  so  dear  to 
her,  it  seemed  hard!  hard!  that  God  denied  her  this  one 
blessing.  What  was  the  praise  and  admiration  of  all  the 
world  in  comparison  with  the  loving  light  in  that  child's 
eyes,  and  the  tender  pressure  of  his  lips? 

The  woman's  ambition  had  long  been  fully  satisfied,  and 
even  exacting  conscience,  jealously  guarding  its  shrine,  saw 
daily  sacrifices  laid  thereon,  and  smiled  approvingly  upon 
her;  but  the  woman's  hungry  heart  cried  out,  and  fought 
fiercely,  famine-goaded,  for  its  last  vanishing  morsel  of 
human  love  and  sympathy.  Verily,  these  bread-riots  of  the 
heart  are  fearful  things,  and  crucified  consciences  too  often 
mark  their  track. 

The  little  figure  on  the  bed  was  so  motionless  that  Edna 
crept  nearer  and  leaned  down  to  listen  to  the  breathing; 
and  her  tears  fell  on  his  thick,  curling  hair,  and  upon  the 
orange-blossoms  and  violets. 

Standing  there  she  threw  up  her  clenched  hands  and 
prayed  sobbingly: 

"My  Father !  spare  the  boy  to  me !  I  will  dedicate  anew 
my  life  and  his  to  thy  work!  I  will  make  him  a  minister  of 
thy  word,  and  he  shall  save  precious  souls.  Oh!  do  not 
take  him  away!  If  not  for  a  lifetime,  at  least  spare  him  a 
few  years !  Even  one  more  year,  O  my  God !" 

She  walked  to  the  window,  rested  her  forehead  against 
the  stone  facing,  and  looked  out ;  and  the  wonderful  witch 
ery  of  the  solemn  night  wove  its  spell  around  her.  Great,, 
golden  stars  clustered  in  the  clear  heavens,  and  were  re 
flected  in  the  calm,  blue  pavement  of  the  Mediterranean, 


ST.  ELMO.  473 

where  not  a  ripple  shivered  their  shining  images.  A  waning 
crescent  moon  swung  high  over  the  eastern  crest  of  the 
Apennines,  and  threw  a  weird  light  along  the  Doria's  mar 
ble  palace,  and  down  on  the  silver  gray  olives,  on  the  glis 
tening  orange-groves,  snow-powdered  with  fragrant  bloom, 
and  in  that  wan,  mysterious,  and  most  melancholy  light — 

"  The  old,  miraculous  mountains  heaved  in  sight, 
One  straining  past  another  along  the  shore 
The  way  of  grand,  dull  Odyssean  ghosts, 
Athirst  to  drink  the  cool,  blue  wine  of  seas, 
And  stare  on  voyagers." 

From  some  lofty  campanile,  in  a  distant  section  of  the 
silent  city,  sounded  the  angelus  bell ;  and  from  the  deep 
shadow  of  olive,  vine,  and  myrtle  that  clothed  the  amphi 
theatre  of  hills,  the  convent  bells  caught  and  reechoed  it. 

"  Nature  comes  sometimes, 
And  says,  '  I  am  ambassador  for  God ' ;  " 

and  the  splendor  of  the  Italian  night  spoke  to  Edna's  soul, 
as  the  glory  of  the  sunset  had  done  some  years  before, 
when  she  sat  in  the  dust  in  the  pine  glades  at  Le  Bocage; 
and  she  grew  calm  once  more,  while  out  of  the  blue  depths 
of  the  starlit  sea  came  a  sacred  voice,  that  said  to  her  aching 
heart : 

"Peace  I  leave  with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you ;  not 
as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you.  Let  not  your  heart 
be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid." 

The  cup  was  not  passing  away;  but  courage  to  drain  it 
was  given  by  Him  who  never  calls  his  faithful  children  into 
the  gloom  of  Gethsemane  without  having  first  stationed  close 
at  hand  some  strengthening  angel.  The  governess  went 
back  to  the  bed,  and  there,  on  the  pillow,  rested  the  moth, 
which  at  her  approach  flew  away  with  a  humming  sound, 
and  disappeared. 

After  another  hour  she  saw  that  a  change  was  stealing 
over  the  boy's  countenance,  and  his  pulse  fluttered  more 
feebly  against  her  cold  fingers.  She  sprang  into  the  next 
room,  shook  his  mother,  and  hastened  back,  trying  to  rouse 
the  dying  child,  and  give  him  some  stimulants.  But  though 
the  large,  black  eyes  opened  when  she  raised  his  head,  there 


474  ST.  ELMO. 

was  no  recognition  in  their  fixed  gaze;  for  the  soul  was 
preparing  for  its  final  flight,  and  was  too  busy  to  look  out 
of  its  windows. 

In  vain  they  resorted  to  the  most  powerful  restoratives; 
he  remained  in  the  heavy  stupor,  with  no  sign  of  animation, 
save  the  low  irregular  breath,  and  the  weak  flutter  of  the 
thread-like  pulse. 

Mrs.  Andrews  wept  aloud  and  wrung  her  hands,  and 
Hattie  cried  passionately,  as  she  stood  in  her  long  white 
nightgown  at  the  side  of  her  brother's  bed;  but  there 
were  no  tears  on  Edna's  cold,  gray  face.  She  had  spent 
them  all  at  the  foot  of  God's  throne;  and  now  that  He  had 
seen  fit  to  deny  her  petition,  she  silently  looked  with  dry 
eyes  at  the  heavy  rod  that  smote  her. 

The  night  waned,  the  life  with  it;  now  and  then  the 
breathing  seemed  to  cease,  but  after  a  few  seconds  a  faint 
gasp  told  that  the  clay  would  not  yet  forego  its  hold  on  the 
soul  that  struggled  to  be  free. 

The  poor  mother  seemed  almost  beside  herself,  as  she 
called  on  her  child  to  speak  to  her  once  more. 

"Sing  something,  Edna;  oh!  perhaps  he  will  hear!  It 
might  rouse  him!" 

The  orphan  shook  her  head,  and  dropped  her  face  on  his. 

"He  would  not  hear  me ;  no,  no !  He  is  listening  to  the 
song  of  those  whose  golden  harps  ring  in  the  New  Jerusa 
lem." 

Out  of  the  whitening  east  rose  the  new  day,  radiant  in 
bridal  garments,  wearing  a  star  on  its  pearly  brow ;  and  the 
sky  flushed,  anil  the  sea  glowed,  while  silvery  mists  rolled 
up  from  the  purple  mountain  gorges,  and  rested  awhile  on 
the  summits  of  the  Apennines,  and  sunshine  streamed  over 
the  world  once  more. 

The  first  rays  flashed  into  the  room,  kissing  the  withered 
flowers  on  the  bosom  of  the  cripple,  and  falling  warm  and 
bright  on  the  cold  eyelids  and  the  pulseless  temples.  Edna's 
hand  was  pressed  to  his  heart,  and  she  knew  that  it  had 
given  its  last  throb;  knew  that  Felix  Andrews  had  crossed 
the  sea  of  glass,  and  in  the  dawn  of  the  Eternal  day  wore 
the  promised  morning-star,  and  stood  in  peace  before  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness. 


ST.  ELMO.  475, 

During  the  two  days  that  succeeded  the  death  of  Felix, 
Edna  did  not  leave  her  room ;  and  without  her  knowledge 
Mrs.  Andrews  administered  opiates  that  stupefied  her.  Late 
on  the  morning  of  the  third  she  awoke,  and  lay  for  some 
time  trying  to  collect  her  thoughts. 

Her  mind  was  clouded,  but  gradually  it  cleared,  and  she 
strained  her  ears  to  distinguish  the  low  words  spoken  in 
the  apartment  next  to  her  own.  She  remembered,  as  in  a 
feverish  dream,  all  that  passed  on  the  night  that  Felix  died  ; 
and  pressing  her  hand  over  her  aching  forehead,  she  rose 
and  sat  on  the  edge  of  her  bed. 

The  monotonous  sounds  in  the  neighboring  room  swelled 
louder  for  a  few  seconds,  and  now  she  heard  very  distinctly 
the  words: 

"And  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven,  saying  unto  me,  Write, 
Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from  hence 
forth." 

She  shivered,  and  wrapped  around  her  shoulders  a  bright 
blue  shawl  that  had  been  thrown  over  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

Walking  across  the  floor,  she  opened  the  door,  and 
looked  in. 

The  boy's  body  had  been  embalmed,  and  placed  in  a 
coffin  which  rested  in  the  centre  of  the  room;  and  an  Eng 
lish  clergyman,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Manning's,  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  corpse,  and  read  the  burial  service. 

Mrs.  Andrews  and  Hattie  were  weeping  in  one  corner 
and  Mr.  Manning  leaned  against  the  window,  with  his  hand 
on  Lila's  curls.  As  the  door  swung  open  and  Edna  entered, 
he  looked  up. 

Her  dressing  gown  of  gray  merino  trailed  on  the  marble 
floor,  and  her  bare  feet  gleamed  like  ivory,  as  one  hand 
caught  up  the  soft  merino  folds  sufficiently  to  ^nable  her 
to  walk.  Over  the  blue  shawl  streamed  her  beautiful  hair, 
making  the  wan  face  look  even  more  ghastly  by  contrast 
with  its  glossy  jet  masses. 

She  stood  irresolute,  with  her  calm,  mournful  eyes  riveted 
on  the  coffin,  and  Mr.  Manning  saw  her  pale  lips  move  as 
she  staggered  toward  it.  He  sprang  to  meet  and  intercept 
her,  and  she  stretched  her  hands  in  the  direction  of  the 
corpse,  and  smiled  strangely,  murmuring  like  one  in  a 
troubled  dream: 


476  ST.  ELMO. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid,  little  darling,  'there  is  no  night 
there.'  " 

She  reeled  and  put  her  hand  to  her  heart,  and  would 
have  fallen,  but  Mr.  Manning  caught  and  carried  her  back 
to  her  room. 

For  two  weeks  she  hovered  on  the  borders  of  eternity; 
and  often  the  anxious  friends  who  watched  her,  felt  that 
they  would  rather  see  her  die  than  endure  the  suffering 
through  which  she  was  called  to  pass. 

She  bore  it  silently,  meekly,  and  when  the  danger  seemed 
over,  and  she  was  able  to  sleep  without  the  aid  of  narcotics, 
Mrs.  Andrews  could  not  bear  to  look  at  the  patient  white 
face,  so  hopelessly  calm. 

No  allusion  was  made  to  Felix,  even  after  she  was  able 
to  sit  up  and  drive;  but  once,  when  Mr.  Manning  brought 
her  some  flowers,  she  looked  sorrowfully  at  the  snowy 
orange-blossoms,  whose  strong  perfume  made  her  turn 
paler,  and  said  faintly: 

"I  shall  never  love  them  or  violets  again.  Take  them 
away,  Hattie,  out  of  my  sight;  put  them  on  your  brother's 
grave.  They  smell  of  death." 

From  that  day  she  made  a  vigorous  effort  to  rouse  herself, 
and  the  boy's  name  never  passed  her  lips ;  though  she  spent 
many  hours  over  a  small  manuscript  which  she  found 
among  his  books,  directed  to  her  for  revision.  "Tales  for 
Little  Cripples,"  was  the  title  he  had  given  it,  and  she  was 
surprised  at  the  beauty  and  pathos  of  many  of  the  sentences. 
She  carefully  revised  and  rewrote  it,  adding  a  brief  sketch 
of  the  young  writer,  and  gave  it  to  his  mother. 

About  a  month  after  Felix's  death  the  governess  seemed 
to  have  recovered  her  physical  strength,  and  Mrs.  Andrews 
announced  her  intention  of  going  to  Germany.  Mr.  Man 
ning  had  engagements  that  called  him  to  France,  and,  on 
the  last  day  of  their  stay  at  Genoa,  he  came  as  usual  to 
spend  the  evening  with  Edna. 

A  large  budget  of  letters  and  papers  had  arrived  from 
America ;  and  when  he  gave  her  the  package  containing  her 
share,  she  glanced  over  the  directions,  threw  them  unopened 
into  a  heap  on  the  table,  and  continued  the  conversation  in 
which  she  was  engaged,  concerning  the  architecture  of  the 
churches  in  Genoa. 


ST.  ELMO.  477 

Mrs.  Andrews  had  gone  to  the  vault  where  the  body  of 
her  son  had  been  temporarily  placed,  and  Edna  was  alone 
with  the  editor. 

"You  ought  to  look  into  your  papers;  they  contain  very 
gratifying  intelligence  for  you.  Your  last  book  has  gone 
through  ten  editions,  and  your  praises  are  chanted  all  over 
your  native  land.  Surely,  if  ever  a  woman  had  adulation 
enough  to  render  her  perfectly  happy  and  pardonably  proud, 
you  are  the  fortunate  individual.  Already  your  numerous 
readers  are  inquiring  when  you  will  give  them  another 
book." 

She  leaned  her  head  back  against  her  chair,  and  the  little 
hands  caressed  each  other  as  they  rested  on  her  knee,  while 
her  countenance  was  eloquent  with  humble  gratitude  for  the 
success  that  God  had  permitted  to  crown  her  efforts;  but 
she  was  silent. 

"Do  you  intend  to  write  a  book  of  travels,  embracing  the 
incidents  that  have  marked  your  tour?  I  see  the  public 
expect  it." 

"No,  sir.  It  seems  now  a  mere  matter  of  course  that  all 
scribblers  who  come  to  Europe,  should  afflict  the  reading 
world  with  an  account  of  what  they  saw  or  failed  to  see. 
So  many  noble  books  have  been  already  published,  thor 
oughly  describing  this  continent,  that  I  have  not  the 
temerity,  the  presumption  to  attempt  to  retouch  the  grand 
old  word-pictures.  At  present,  I  expect  to  write  nothing. 
I  want  to  study  some  subjects  that  greatly  interest  me,  and 
I  shall  try  to  inform  and  improve  myself,  and  keep  silent 
until  I  see  some  phase  of  truth  neglected,  or  some  new 
aspect  of  error  threatening  mischief  in  society.  Indeed,  I 
have  great  cause  for  gratitude  in  my  literary  career.  At  the 
beginning  I  felt  apprehensive  that  I  was  destined  to  sit 
always  under  the  left  hand  of  fortune,  whom  Michael  An- 
gelo  designed  as  a  lovely  woman  seated  on  a  revolving 
wheel,  throwing  crowns  and  laurel  wreaths  from  her  right 
hand,  while  only  thorns  dropped  in  a  sharp,  stinging  shower 
from  the  other;  but,  after  a  time,  the  wheel  turned,  and 
now  I  feel  only  the  soft  pattering  of  the  laurel  leaves.  God 
knows  I  do  most  earnestly  appreciate  His  abundant  bless 
ing  upon  what  I  have  thus  far  striven  to  effect;  but,  until 
I  see  my  way  clearly  to  some  subject  of  importance  which  a 


478  ST.  ELMO. 

woman's  hand  may  touch,  I  shall  not  take  up  my  pen. 
Books  seem  such  holy  things  to  me,  destined  to  plead  either 
for  or  against  their  creators  in  the  final  tribunal,  that  I  dare 
not  lightly  or  hastily  attempt  to  write  them;  and  I  can  not 
help  thinking  that  the  author  who  is  less  earnestly  and  sol 
emnly  impressed  with  the  gravity,  and,  I  may  almost  say, 
the  sanctity  of  his  or  her  work,  is  unworthy  of  it,  and  of 
public  confidence.  I  dare  not,  even  if  I  could,  dash  off 
articles  and  books  as  the  rower  shakes  water-drops  from  his 
oars;  and  I  humbly  acknowledge  that  what  success  I  may 
have  achieved  is  owing  to  hard,  faithful  work.  I  have  re 
ceived  so  many  kind  letters  from  children,  that  some  time, 
if  I  live  to  be  wise  enough,  I  want  to  write  a  book  especially 
for  them.  I  am  afraid  to  attempt  it  just  now ;  for  it  requires 
more  mature  judgment  and  experience,  and  greater  versa 
tility  of  talent  to  write  successfully  for  children  than  for 
grown  persons.  In  the  latter,  one  is  privileged  to  assume 
native  intelligence  and  cultivation;  but  the  tender,  untu 
tored  minds  of  the  former  permit  no  such  margin;  and  this 
fact  necessitates  clearness  and  simplicity  of  style,  and  power 
of  illustration  that  seem  to  me  very  rare.  As  yet  I  am  con 
scious  of  my  incapacity  for  the  mission  of  preparing  juvenile 
books;  but  perhaps,  if  I  study  closely  the  characteristics  of 
young  people,  I  shall  learn  to  understand  them  more  thor 
oughly.  So  much  depends  on  the  proper  training  of  our 
American  youth,  especially  in  view  of  the  great  political 
questions  that  now  agitate  the  country,  that  I  confess  I  feel 
some  anxiety  on  the  subject." 

"But,  Edna,  you  will  not  adhere  to  your  resolution  of 
keeping  silent.  The  public  is  a  merciless  task-master ;  your 
own  ambition  will  scourge  you  on;  and  having  once  put 
your  hand  to  the  literary  plough,  you  will  not  be  allowed  to 
look  back.  Rigorously  the  world  exacts  the  full  quota  of 
the  author's  arum." 

"Yes,  sir ;  but  'he  that  plougheth  should  plough  in  hope' .: 
and  when  I  can  see  clearly  across  the  wide  field,  and  drive 
the  gleaming  share  of  truth  straight  and  steady  to  the  end, 
then,  and  not  till  then,  shall  I  render  my  summer-day's 
arura.  Meantime,  I  am  resolved  to  plough  no  crooked, 
shallow  furrows  on  the  hearts  of  our  people." 


ST.  ELMO.  479 

At  length  when  Mr.  Manning  rose  to  say  good-night,  he 
looked  gravely  at  the  governess,  and  asked : 

"Edna,  can  not  Lila  take  the  vacant  place  in  your  sad 
heart?" 

"It  is  not  vacant,  sir.  Dear  memories  walk  to  and  fro 
therein,  weaving  garlands  of  immortelles — singing  sweet 
tunes  of  days  and  years — that  can  never  die.  Hereafter  I 
shall  endeavor  to  entertain  the  precious  guests  I  have 
already,  and  admit  no  more.  The  past  is  the  realm  of  my 
heart;  the  present  and  future  the  kingdom  where  my  mind 
must  dwell,  and  my  hands  labor." 

With  a  sigh  he  went  away,  and  she  took  up  the  letters  and 
began  to  read  them.  Many  were  from  strangers,  and  they 
greatly  cheered  and  encouraged  her ;  but  finally  she  opened 
one,  whose  superscription  had  until  this  instant  escaped  her 
cursory  glance.  It  was  from  Mr.  Hammond,  and  contained 
an  account  of  Mr.  Murray's  ordination.  She  read  and  re 
read  it,  with  a  half-bewildered  expression  in  her  counte 
nance,  for  the  joy  seemed  far  too  great  for  credence.  She 
looked  again  at  the  date  and  signature,  and  passing  her 
hand  over  her  brow,  wondered  if  there  could  be  any  mis 
take.  The  paper  fell  into  her  lap,  and  a  cry  of  delight  rang 
through  the  room. 

"Saved — purified — consecrated  henceforth  to  God's  holy 
work?  A  minister  of  Christ?  O  most  merciful  God!  I 
thank  Thee !  My  prayers  are  answered  with  a  blessing  I 
never  dared  to  hope  for,  or  even  to  dream  of!  Can  I  ever, 
ever  be  grateful  enough  ?  A  pastor,  holding  up  pure  hands ! 
Thank  God!  my  sorrows  are  all  ended  now;  there  is  no 
more  grief  for  me.  Ah!  what  a  glory  breaks  upon  the 
future!  What  though  I  never  see  his  face  in  this  world? 
I  can  be  patient  indeed ;  for  now  I  know,  oh !  I  know  that  I 
shall  surely  see  it  yonder !" 

She  sank  on  her  knees  at  the  open  window,  and  wept  for 
the  first  time  since  Felix  died.  Happy,  happy  tears  mingled 
with  broken  words  of  rejoicing,  that  seemed  a  foretaste  of 
heaven. 

Her  heart  was  so  full  of  gratitude  and  exultation  that  she 
could  not  sleep,  and  she  sat  down  and  looked  over  the  sea 
while  her  face  was  radiant  and  tremulous.     The  transition- 
from  patient  hopelessness  and  silent  struggling this  most 


480  ST.  ELMO. 

unexpected  and  glorious  fruition  of  the  prayers  of  many 
years — was  so  sudden  and  intoxicating,  that  it  completely 
unnerved  her. 

She  could  not  bear  this  great  happiness  as  she  had  borne 
her  sorrows,  and  now  and  then  she  smiled  to  find  tears 
gushing  afresh  from  her  beaming  eyes. 

Once,  in  an  hour  of  sinful  madness,  Mr.  Murray  had 
taken  a  human  life,  and  ultimately  caused  the  loss  of  an 
other;  but  the  waves  that  were  running  high  beyond  the 
mole  told  her  in  thunder-tones  that  he  had  saved,  had 
snatched  two  lives  from  their  devouring  rage.  And  the 
shining  stars  overhead  grouped  themselves  into  characters 
that  said  to  her,  "Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged" ;  and  the 
ancient  mountains  whispered,  "Stand  still,  and  see  the  salva 
tion  of  God!"  and  the  grateful  soul  of  the  lonely  woman 
answered : 

"That  all  the  jarring  notes  of  life 

Seem  blending  in  a  psalm, 

And  all  the  angels  of  its  strife 

Slow  rounding  into  calm." 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

IMMEDIATELY  after  her  return  to  New  York,  Edna  re 
sumed  her  studies  with  renewed  energy,  and  found  her 
physical  strength  recruited  and  her  mind  invigorated  by 
repose.  Her  fondness  for  Hattie  induced  her  to  remain 
with  Mrs.  Andrews  in  the  capacity  of  governess,  though  her 
position  in  the  family  had  long  ceased  to  resemble  in  any 
respect  that  of  a  hireling.  Three  hours  of  each  day  were 
devoted  to  the  education  of  the  little  girl,  who,  though 
vastly  inferior  in  mental  endowments  to  her  brother,  was 
an  engaging  and  exceedingly  affectionate  child,  fully  worthy 
of  the  love  which  her  gifted  governess  lavished  upon  her. 
The  remainder  of  her  time  Edna  divided  between  study, 
music,  and  an  extensive  correspondence,  which  daily  in 
creased. 

She  visited  little,  having  no  leisure  and  less  inclination  to 
fritter  away  her  morning  in  gossip  and  chit-chat;  but  she 
set  apart  one  evening  in  each  week  for  the  reception  of  her 
numerous  kind  friends,  and  of  all  strangers  who  desired  to 
call  upon  her.  These  reunions  were  brilliant  and  delightful, 
and  it  was  considered  a  privilege  to  be  present  at  gatherings 
where  eminent  men  and  graceful,  refined,  cultivated  Chris 
tian  women  assembled  to  discuss  ethical  and  aesthetic  topics, 
which  all  educated  Americans  are  deemed  capable  of  com 
prehending. 

Edna's  abhorrence  of  double  entendre  and  of  the  fash 
ionable  sans  souci  style  of  conversation,  which  was  tolerated 
by  many  who  really  disliked  but  had  not  nerve  enough  to 
frown  it  down,  was  not  a  secret  to  any  one  who  read  her 
writings  or  attended  her  receptions.  Without  obtruding  her 
rigid  views  of  true  womanly  delicacy  and  decorum  upon  any 
one,  her  deportment  under  all  circumstances  silently  pub 
lished  her  opinion  of  certain  latitudinarian  expressions  prev 
alent  in  society. 

She  saw  that  the  growing  tendency  to  free  and  easy  man 
ners  and  colloquial  license  was  rapidly  destroying  all  rever 
ence  for  womanhood ;  was  levelling  the  distinction  between 
ladies'  parlors  and  gentlemen's  clubrooms ;  was  placing  the 


482  ST.  ELMO. 

sexes  on  a  platform  of  equality  which  was  dangerous  to 
feminine  delicacy,  that  God-built  bulwark  of  feminine  purity 
and  of  national  morality. 

That  time-honored  maxim,  "Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense" 
she  found  had  been  distorted  from  its  original  and  noble 
significance,  and  was  now  a  mere  convenient  India-rubber 
cloak,  stretched  at  will  to  cover  and  excuse  allusions  which 
no  really  modest  woman  could  tolerate.  Consequently,  when 
she  heard  it  flippantly  pronounced  in  palliation  of  some  gross 
offense  against  delicacy,  she  looked  more  searchingly  into 
the  characters  of  the  indiscreet  talkers,  and  quietly  inti 
mated  to  them  that  their  presence  was  not  desired  at  her 
receptions.  Believing  that  modesty  and  purity  were  twin 
sisters,  and  that  vulgarity  and  vice  were  rarely  if  ever  di 
vorced,  Edna  sternly  refused  to  associate  with  those  whose 
laxity  of  manners  indexed,  in  her  estimation,  a  correspond 
ing  laxity  of  morals.  Married  belles  and  married  beaux  she 
shunned  and  detested,  regarding  them  as  a  disgrace  to  their 
families,  as  a  blot  upon  all  noble  womanhood  and  manhood, 
and  as  the  most  dangerous  foes  to  the  morality  of  the  com 
munity,  in  which  they  unblushingly  violated  hearthstone 
statutes  and  the  venerable  maxims  of  social  decorum. 

The  ostracized  banded  in  wrath,  and  ridiculed  her  anti 
quated  prudery ;  but  knowing  that  the  pure  and  noble  moth 
ers,  wives,  and  daughters,  honored  and  trusted  her,  Edna 
gave  no  heed  to  raillery  and  envious  malice,  but  resolutely 
obeyed  the  promptings  of  her  womanly  intuitions. 

Painful  experience  had  taught  her  the  imprudence,  the 
short-sighted  policy  of  working  until  very  late  at  night ;  and 
in  order  to  take  due  care  of  her  health,  she  wisely  resorted 
to  a  different  system  of  study,  which  gave  her  more  sleep, 
and  allowed  her  some  hours  of  daylight  for  her  literary 
labors. 

In  the  industrial  pursuits  of  her  own  sex  she  was  intensely 
interested,  and  spared  no  trouble  in  acquainting  herself  with 
the  statistics  of  those  branches  of  employment  already  open 
to  them;  consequently  she  was  never  so  happy  as  when  the 
recipient  of  letters  from  the  poor  women  of  the  land,  who 
thanked  her  for  the  words  of  hope,  advice,  and  encourage 
ment  which  she  constantly  addressed  to  them. 

While  the  world  honored  her,  she  had  the  precious  assur 
ance  that  her  Christian  countrymen  loved  and  trusted  her. 


ST.  ELMO.  483 

She  felt  the  painful  need  of  Mr.  Manning's  society,  and 
even  his  frequent  letters  did  not  fully  satisfy  her;  but  as  he 
had  resolved  to  remain  in  Europe,  at  least  for  some  years, 
she  bore  the  irreparable  loss  of  his  counsel  and  sympathy, 
as  she  bore  all  other  privations,  bravely  and  quietly. 

Now  and  then  alarming  symptoms  of  the  old  suffering 
warned  her  of  the  uncertainty  of  her  life;  and  after  much 
deliberation,  feeling  that  her  time  was  limited,  she  com 
menced  another  book. 

Mr.  Hammond  wrote  begging  her  to  come  to  him,  as  he 
was  now  hopelessly  infirm  and  confined  to  his  room;  but 
she  shrank  from  a  return  to  the  village  so  intimately  asso 
ciated  with  events  which  she  wished  if  possible  to  forget; 
and,  though  she  declined  the  invitation,  she  proved  her 
affection  for  her  venerable  teacher,  by  sending  him  every 
day  a  long,  cheerful  letter. 

Since  her  departure  from  the  parsonage,  Mrs.  Murray 
had  never  written  to  her ;  but  through  Mr.  Hammond's  and 
Huldah's  letters,  Edna  learned  that  Mr.  Murray  was  the 
officiating  minister  in  the  church  which  he  had  built  in  his 
boyhood ;  and  now  and  then  the  old  pastor  painted  pictures 
of  life  at  Le  Bocage,  that  brought  happy  tears  to  the  or 
phan's  eyes.  She  heard  from  time  to  time  of  the  good  the 
new  minister  was  accomplishing  among  the  poor;  of  the 
beneficial  influence  he  exerted,  especially  over  the  young 
men  of  the  community;  of  the  charitable  institutions  to 
which  he  was  devoting  a  large  portion  of  his  fortune;  of 
the  love  and  respect,  the  golden  opinions  he  was  winning 
from  those  whom  he  had  formerly  estranged  by  his  sarcastic 
bitterness. 

While  Edna  fervently  thanked  God  for  this  most  wonder 
ful  change,  she  sometimes  repeated  exultingly: 

"  Man-like  is  it  to  fall  into  sin, 
Fiend-like  is  it  to  dwell  therein, 
Christ-like  is  it  for  sin  to  grieve, 
God-like  is  it  all  sin  to  leave ! " 

One  darling  rose-hued  dream  of  her  life  was  to  establish 
a  free-school  and  circulating  library  in  the  village  of  Chat 
tanooga  ;  and  keeping  this  hope  ever  in  view,  she  had  denied 


484  ST.  ELMO. 

herself  all  superfluous  luxuries,  and  jealously  hoarded  her 
savings. 

She  felt  now  that,  should  she  become  an  invalid,  and  in 
capable  of  writing  or  teaching,  the  money  made  by  her 
books,  which  Mr.  Andrews  had  invested  very  judiciously, 
would  at  least  supply  her  with  the  necessities  of  life. 

One  evening  she  held  her  weekly  reception  as  usual, 
though  she  had  complained  of  not  feeling  quite  well  that 
day. 

A  number  of  carriages  stood  before  Mrs.  Andrews's  door 
and  many  friends  who  laughed  and  talked  to  the  governess 
little  dreamed  that  it  was  the  last  time  they  would  spend  an 
evening  together  in  her  society.  The  pleasant  hours  passed 
swiftly;  Edna  had  never  conversed  more  brilliantly,  and  the 
auditors  thought  her  voice  was  richer  and  sweeter  than  ever, 
as  she  sang  the  last  song  and  rose  from  the  piano. 

The  guests  took  their  departure — the  carriages  rolled 
away. 

Mrs.  Andrews  ran  up  to  her  room,  and  Edna  paused  in 
the  brilliantly  lighted  parlors  to  read  a  note,  which  had 
been  handed  to  her  during  the  evening. 

Standing  under  the  blazing  chandelier,  the  face  and  figure 
of  this  woman  could  not  fail  to  excite  interest  in  all  who 
gazed  upon  her. 

She  was  dressed  in  plain  black  silk,  which  exactly  fitted 
her  form,  and  in  her  hair  glowed  clusters  of  scarlet  gera 
nium  flowers.  A  spray  of  red  fuchsia  was  fastened  by  the 
beautiful  stone  cameo  that  confined  her  lace  collar;  and, 
save  the  handsome  gold  bands  on  her  wrists,  she  wore  no 
other  ornaments. 

Felix  had  given  her  these  bracelets  as  a  Christmas  pres 
ent,  and  after  his  death  she  never  took  them  off ;  for  inside 
he  had  his  name  and  hers  engraved,  and  between  them  the 
word  "Mizpah." 

To-night  the  governess  was  very  weary,  and  the  fair 
sweet  face  wore  its  old  childish  expression  of  mingled  hope 
lessness,  and  perfect  patience,  and  indescribable  repose.  As 
she  read,  the  tired  look  passed  away,  and  over  her  pallid 
features,  so  daintily  sculptured,  stole  a  faint  glow,  such  as 
an  ivory  Niobe  might  borrow  from  the  fluttering  crimson 


ST.  ELMO.  485 

folds  of  silken  shroudings.     The  peaceful  lips  stirred  also 
and  the  low  tone  was  full  of  pathos  as  she  said: 

"How  very  grateful  I  ought  to  be.  How  much  I  have 
to  make  me  happy,  to  encourage  me  to  work  diligently  and 
faithfully.  How  comforting  it  is  to  feel  that  parents  have 
sufficient  confidence  in  me  to  be  willing  to  commit  their 
children  to  my  care.  What  more  can  I  wish?  My  cup  is 
brimmed  with  blessings.  Ah !  why  am  I  not  entirely  happy  ?" 

The  note  contained  the  signature  of  six  wealthy  gentle 
men,  who  requested  her  acceptance  of  a  tasteful  and  hand 
some  house,  on  condition  that  she  would  consent  to  under 
take  the  education  of  their  daughters,  and  permit  them  to 
pay  her  a  liberal  salary. 

It  was  a  flattering  tribute  to  the  clearness  of  her  intellect, 
the  soundness  of  her  judgment,  the  extent  of  her  acquire 
ments,  and  the  purity  of  her  heart. 

While  she  could  not  accede  to  the  proposition,  she  appre 
ciated  most  gratefully  the  generosity  and  good  opinion  of 
those  who  made  it. 

Twisting  the  note  between  her  fingers,  her  eyes  fell  on 
the  carpet,  and  she  thought  of  all  her  past;  of  the  sorrows, 
struggles,  and  heart-aches,  the  sleepless  nights  and  weary, 
joyless  days — first  of  adverse,  then  of  favorable  criticism; 
of  toiling,  hoping,  dreading,  praying;  and  now,  in  the  peace 
ful  zenith  of  her  triumph,  popularity,  and  usefulness,  she 
realized 

"  That  care  and  trial  seem  at  last, 
Through  Memory's  sunset  air, 
Like  mountain  ranges  overpast, 
In  purple  distance  fair." 

The  note  fluttered  to  the  floor,  the  hands  folded  them 
selves  together,  and  she  raised  her  eyes  to  utter  an  humble, 
fervent  "Thank  God!"  But  the  words  froze  on  her  lips; 
for  as  she  looked  up,  she  saw  Mr.  Murray  standing  a  few 
feet  from  her. 

"God  has  pardoned  all  my  sins,  and  accepted  me  as  a 
laborer  worthy  to  enter  His  vineyard.  Is  Edna  Earl  more 
righteous  than  the  Lord  she  worships?" 

His  face  was  almost  as  pale  as  hers,  and  his  voice  trem 
bled  as  he  extended  his  arms  toward  her. 

She  stood  motionless,  looking  up  at  him  with  eyes  that 


486  ST.  ELMO. 

brightened  until  their  joyful  radiance  seemed  indeed  un 
earthly;  and  the  faint,  delicate  blush  on  her  cheeks  deep 
ened  and  burned,  as  with  a  quivering  cry  of  gladness  that 
told  volumes,  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

He  came  nearer,  and  the  sound  of  his  low,  mellow  voice 
thrilled  her  heart  as  no  other  music  had  ever  done. 

"Edna,  have  you  a  right  to  refuse  me  forgiveness,  when 
the  blood  of  Christ  has  purified  me  from  the  guilt  of  other 
years  ?" 

She  trembled  and  said  brokenly: 

"Mr.  Murray — you  never  wronged  me — and  I  have  noth 
ing  to  forgive." 

"Do  you  still  believe  me  an  unprincipled  hypocrite?" 

"Oh !  no,  no,  no !" 

"Do  you  believe  that  my  repentance  has  been  sincere,  and 
acceptable  to  my  insulted  God?  Do  you  believe  that  I  am 
now  as  faithfully  endeavoring  to  serve  Him,  as  a  remorseful 
man  possibly  can?" 

"I  hope  so,  Mr.  Murray." 

"Edna,  can  you  trust  me  now  ?" 

Some  seconds  elapsed  before  she  answered,  and  then  the 
words  were  scarcely  audible. 

"I  trust  you." 

"Thank  God !" 

There  was  a  brief  pause,  and  she  heard  a  heavily-drawn 
sigh  escape  him. 

"Edna,  it  is  useless  to  tell  you  how  devotedly  I  love  you, 
for  you  have  known  that  for  years ;  and  yet  you  have  shown 
my  love  no  mercy.  But  perhaps  if  you  could  realize  how 
much  I  need  your  help  in  my  holy  work,  how  much  more 
good  I  could  accomplish  in  the  world  if  you  were  with  me, 
you  might  listen,  without  steeling  yourself  against  me,  as 
you  have  so  long  done.  Can  you,  will  you  trust  me  fully? 
Can  you  be  a  minister's  wife,  and  aid  him  as  only  you  can? 
Oh,  my  darling,  my  darling!  I  never  expect  to  be  worthy 
of  you!  But  you  can  make  me  less  unworthy!  My  own 
darling,  come  to  me." 

He  stood  within  two  feet  of  her,  but  he  was — too  hum 
ble?  Nay,  nay,  too  proud  to  touch  her  without  permission. 

Her  hands  fell  from  her  crimson  cheeks,  and  she  looked 
up  at  the  countenance  of  her  king. 


ST.  ELMO.  487 

In  her  fond  eyes  he  seemed  noble  and  sanctified,  and 
worthy  of  all  confidence ;  and  as  he  opened  his  arms  once 
more,  she  glided  into  them  and  laid  her  head  on  his  shoul 
der,  whispering: 

"Oh !  I  trust  you !  I  trust  you  fully !" 

Standing  in  the  close,  tender  clasp  of  his  strong  arms,  she 
listened  to  a  narration  of  his  grief  and  loneliness,  his  hopes 
and  fears,  his  desolation  and  struggles  and  prayers  during 
their  long  separation.  Then  for  the  first  time  she  learned 
that  he  had  come  more  than  once  to  New  York,  solely  to 
see  her,  having  exacted  a  promise  from  Mr.  Manning  that 
he  would  not  betray  his  presence  in  the  city.  He  had  fol 
lowed  her  at  a  distance  as  she  wandered  with  the  children 
through  the  Park ;  and,  once  in  the  ramble,  stood  so  close  to 
her  that  he  put  out  his  hand  and  touched  her  dress.  Mr. 
Manning  had  acquainted  him  with  all  that  had  ever  passed 
between  them  on  the  subject  of  his  unsuccessful  suit;  and 
during  her  sojourn  in  Europe,  had  kept  him  regularly  ad 
vised  of  the  state  of  her  health. 

At  last,  when  Mr.  Murray  bent  his  head  to  press  his  lips 
again  to  hers,  he  exclaimed  in  the  old,  pleading  tone  that  had 
haunted  her  memory  for  years : 

"Edna,  with  all  your  meekness  you  are  wilfully  proud. 
You  tell  me  you  trust  me,  and  you  nestle  your  dear  head 
here  on  my  shoulder — why  won't  you  say  what  you  know  so 
well  I  am  longing,  hungering  to  hear  ?  Why  won't  you  say, 
'St.  Elmo,  I  love  you'  ?" 

The  glowing  face  was  only  pressed  closer. 

"My  little  darling!" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Murray !  could  I  be  here." 

"Well,  my  stately  Miss  Earl !  I  am  waiting  most  respect 
fully  to  allow  you  an  opportunity  of  expressing  yourself." 

No  answer. 

He  laughed  as  she  had  heard  him  once  before,  when  he 
took  her  in  his  arms  and  dared  her  to  look  into  his  eyes. 

"When  I  heard  your  books  extolled ;  when  I  heard  your 
praises  from  men,  women,  and  children ;  when  I  could 
scarcely  pick  up  a  paper  without  finding  some  mention  of 
your  name ;  when  I  came  here  to-night,  and  paced  the  pave 
ment,  waiting  for  your  admirers  to  leave  the  house ;  when 
ever  and  wherever  I  have  heard  your  dear  name  uttered,  I 
have  been  exultingly  proud!  For  I  knew  that  the  heart  of 


ST.  ELMO. 

the  people's  pet  was  mine!  I  gloried  in  the  consciousness, 
which  alone  strengthened  and  comforted  me,  that,  despite 
all  that  the  public  could  offer  you,  despite  the  adulation  of 
other  men,  and  despite  my  utter  unworthiness,  my  own  dar 
ling  was  true  to  me!  that  you  never  loved  any  one  but  St. 
Elmo  Murray!  And  as  God  reigns  above  us,  His  happy 
world  holds  no  man  so  grateful,  so  happy,  so  proud  as  I  am ! 
No  man  so  resolved  to  prove  himself  worthy  of  his  treasure! 
Edna,  looking  back  across  the  dark  years  that  have  gone 
so  heavily  over  my  head,  and  comparing  you,  my  pure, 
precious  darling,  with  that  woman,  whom  in  my  boyhood  I 
selected  for  my  life-companion,  I  know  not  whether  I  am 
most  humble,  or  grateful,  or  proud ! 

'Ah !  who  am  I,  that  God  hath  saved 

Me  from  the  doom  I  did  desire, 
And  crossed  the  lot  myself  had  craved 

To  set  me  higher? 
What  have  I  done  that  he  should  bow 

From  heaven  to  choose  a  wife  for  me? 
And  what  deserved,  he  should  endow 

My  home  with  TgEE?'" 

******* 

As  Mr.  Hammond  was  not  able  to  take  the  fatiguing 
journey  North,  and  Edna  would  not  permit  any  one  else  to 
perform  her  marriage  ceremony,  she  sent  Mr.  Murray  home 
without  her,  promising  to  come  to  the  parsonage  as  early 
as  possible. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Andrews  were  deeply  pained  by  the  intel 
ligence  of  her  approaching  departure,  and  finally  consented 
to  accompany  her  on  her  journey. 

The  last  day  of  the  orphan's  sojourn  in  New  York  was 
spent  at  the  quiet  spot  where  Felix  slept  his  last  sleep ;  and 
it  caused  her  keen  grief  to  bid  good-bye  to  his  resting-place, 
which  was  almost  as  dear  to  her  as  the  grave  of  her  grand 
father.  Their  affection  had  been  so  warm,  so  sacred,  that 
she  clung  fondly  to  his  memory;  and  it  was  not  until  she 
reached  the  old  village  depot,  where  carriages  were  waiting 
for  the  party,  that  the  shadow  of  that  day  entirely  left  her 
countenance. 

In  accordance  with  her  own  request,  Edna  did  not  see 
Mr.  Murray  again  until  the  hour  appointed  for  their  mar 
riage. 


ST.  ELMO.  489 

It  was  a  bright,  beautiful  afternoon,  warm  with  sunshine, 
when  she  permitted  Mrs.  Murray  to  lead  her  into  the  study 
where  the  party  had  assembled.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Andrews, 
Hattie,  Huldah,  and  the  white-haired  pastor,  were  all  there, 
and  when  Edna  entered,  Mr.  Murray  advanced  to  meet  her, 
and  received  her  hand  from  his  mother. 

The  orphan's  eyes  were  bent  to  the  floor,  and  never  once 
lifted,  even  when  the  trembling  voice  of  her  beloved  pastor 
pronounced  her  St.  Elmo  Murray's  wife.  The  intense  pallor 
of  her  face  frightened  Mrs.  Andrews,  who  watched  her  with 
suspended  breath,  and  once  moved  eagerly  toward  her.  Mr. 
Murray  felt  her  lean  more  heavily  against  him  during  the 
ceremony ;  and,  now  turning  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  he  saw 
that  her  eyelashes  had  fallen  on  her  cheeks — she  had  lost 
all  consciousness  of  what  was  passing. 

Two  hours  elapsed  before  she  recovered  fully  from  the 
attack ;  and  when  the  blood  showed  itself  again  in  lips  that 
were  kissed  so  repeatedly,  Mr.  Murray  lifted  her  from  the 
sofa  in  the  study,  and  passing  his  arm  around  her,  said: 

"To-day  I  snap  the  fetters  of  your  literary  bondage.  There 
shall  be  no  more  books  written !  No  more  study,  no  more 
toil,  no  more  anxiety,  no  more  heartaches!  And  that  dear 
public  you  love  so  well,  must  even  help  itself,  and  whistle 
for  a  new  pet.  You  belong  solely  to  me  now,  and  I  shall 
take  care  of  the  life  you  have  nearly  destroyed  in  your  in 
ordinate  ambition.  Come,  the  fresh  air  will  revive  you." 

They  stood  a  moment  under  the  honeysuckle  arch  over 
the  parsonage  gate,  where  the  carriage  was  waiting  to  take 
them  to  Le  Bocage,  and  Mr.  Murray  asked : 

"Are  you  strong  enough  to  go  to  the  church  ?" 

"Yes,  sir;  the  pain  has  all  passed  away.  I  am  perfectly 
well  again." 

They  crossed  the  street,  and  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
carried  her  up  the  steps,  and  into  the  grand,  solemn  church, 
where  the  soft,  holy,  violet  light  from  the  richly-tinted  glass 
streamed  over  gilded  organ-pipes  and  sculptured  columns. 

Neither  Edna  nor  St.  Elmo  spoke  as  they  walked  down 
the  aisle ;  and  in  perfect  silence  both  knelt  before  the  shining 
altar,  and  only  God  heard  their  prayers  of  gratitude. 

After  some  moments  Mr.  Murray  put  out  his  hand,  took 
Edna's,  and  holding  it  in  his  on  the  balustrade,  he  prayed 


490  ST.  ELMO. 

aloud,  asking  God's  blessing  on  their  marriage,  and  fer 
vently  dedicating  all  their  future  to  His  work. 

The  hectic  flush  of  the  dying  day  was  reflected  on  the 
window  high  above  the  altar,  and,  burning  through  the  red 
mantle  of  the  Christ,  fell  down  upon  the  marble  shrine  like 
sacred,  sacrificial  fire. 

Edna  felt  as  if  her  heart  could  not  hold  all  its  measureless 
joy.  It  seemed  a  delightful  dream  to  see  Mr.  Murray  kneel 
ing  at  her  side ;  to  hear  his  voice  earnestly  consecrating  their 
lives  to  the  service  of  Jesus  Christ. 

She  knew  from  the  tremor  in  his  tone,  and  the  tears  in 
his  eyes,  that  his  dedication  was  complete;  and  now  to  be 
his  companion  through  all  the  remaining  years  of  their 
earthly  pilgrimage,  to  be  allowed  to  help  him  and  love  him, 
to  walk  heavenward  with  her  hand  in  his ;  this — this  was  the 
crowning  glory  and  richest  blessing  of  her  life. 

When  his  prayer  ended,  she  laid  her  head  down  on  the 
altar-railing,  and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

In  the  orange  glow  of  a  wintry  sunset  they  came  out  and 
sat  down  on  the  steps,  while  a  pair  of  spotless  white  pigeons 
perched  on  the  blood-stain;  and  Mr.  Murray  put  his  arm 
around  Edna,  and  drew  her  face  to  his  bosom. 

"Darling,  do  you  remember  that  once,  in  the  dark  days 
of  my  reckless  sinfulness,  I  asked  you  one  night,  in  the 
library  at  Le  Bocage,  if  you  had  no  faith  in  me?  And  you 
repeated  so  vehemently,  'None,  Mr.  Murray!''1 

"Oh,  sir!  do  not  think  of  it.  Why  recur  to  what  is  so 
painful  and  so  long  past?  Forgive  those  words  and  forget 
them !  Never  was  more  implicit  faith,  more  devoted  affec 
tion,  given  to  any  human  being  than  I  give  now  to  you,  Mr. 
Murray;  you,  who  are  my  first  and  my  last  and  my  only 
love." 

She  felt  his  arm  tighten  around  her  waist,  as  he  bowed 
his  face  to  hers. 

"Forgive?  Ah,  my  darling!  do  you  recollect  also  that  I 
told  you  then  that  the  time  would  come  when  your  dear  lips 
would  ask  pardon  for  what  they  uttered  that  night,  and  that 
when  that  hour  arrived  I  would  take  my  revenge?  My 
wife!  my  pure,  noble,  beautiful  wife!  give  me  my  revenge, 
for  I  cry  with  the  long-banished  Roman: 


ST.  ELMO. 

'  Oh !  a  kiss — long  as  my  exile, 
Sweet  as  my  revenge ! '  " 

He  put  his  hand  under  her  chin,  drew  the  lips  to  his,  and 
kissed  them  repeatedly. 

Down  among  the  graves,  in  the  brown  grass  and  withered 
leaves,  behind  a  tall  shaft,  around  which  coiled  a  carved 
marble  serpent  with  hooded  head — there,  amid  the  dead, 
crouched  a  woman's  figure,  with  a  stony  face  and  blue 
chatoyant  eyes,  that  glared  with  murderous  hate  at  the  sweet 
countenance  of  the  happy  bride.  When  St.  Elmo  tenderly 
kissed  the  pure  lips  of  his  wife,  Agnes  Powell  smothered  a 
savage  cry,  and  Nemesis  was  satisfied  as  the  wretched 
woman  fell  forward  on  the  grass,  sweeping  her  yellow  hair 
over  her  eyes,  to  shut  out  the  vision  that  maddened  her. 

Then  and  there,  for  the  first  time,  as  she  sat  enfolded  by 
her  husband's  arm,  Edna  felt  that  she  could  thank  him  for 
the  monument  erected  over  her  grandfather's  grave. 

The  light  faded  slowly  in  the  west,  the  pigeons  ceased 
their  fluttering  about  the  belfry,  and  as  he  turned  to  quit 
the  church,  so  dear  to  both,  Mr.  Murray  stretched  his  hand 
toward  the  ivy-clad  vault,  and  said  solemnly: 

"I  throw  all  mournful  years  behind  me ;  and,  by  the  grace 
of  God,  our  new  lives,  commencing  this  hallowed  day,  shall 
make  noble  amends  for  the  wasted  past.  Loving  each  other, 
aiding  each  other,  serving  Christ,  through  whose  atonement 
alone  I  have  been  saved  from  eternal  ruin.  To  Thy  merciful 
guidance,  O  Father !  we  commit  our  future." 

Edna  looked  reverently  up  at  his  beaming  countenance, 
whence  the  shadows  of  hate  and  scorn  had  long  since 
passed ;  and,  as  his  splendid  eyes  came  back  to  hers,  reading 
in  her  beautiful,  pure  face  all  her  love  and  confidence  and 
happy  hope,  he  drew  her  closer  to  his  bosom,  and  laid  his 
dark  cheek  on  hers,  saying  fondly  and  proudly : 

"  My  wife,  my  life.    Oh !  we  will  walk  this  world, 
Yoked  in  all  exercise  of  noble  end, 
And  so  through  those  dark  gates  across  the  wild 
That  no  man  knows.    My  hopes  and  thine  are  one; 
Accomplish  thou  my  manhood,  and  thyself, 
Lay  thy  sweet  hands  in  mine  and  trust  to  me." 

THE  END. 


NEW  POPULAR  EDITIONS  OF 

MARY  JOHNSTON'S 
NOVELS 

TO  HAVE  AND  TO  HOLD 

It  was  something  new  and  startling  to  see  an  au 
thor's  first  novel  sell  up  into  the  hundreds  of  thou 
sands,  as  did  this  one.  The  ablest  critics  spoke  of 
it  in  such  terms  as  "  Breathless  interest,"  The  high 
water  mark  of  American  fiction  since  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  "  Surpasses  all,"  "  Without  a  rival,"  "  Ten 
der  and  delicate,"  "  As  good  a  story  of  adventure  as 
one  can  find,"  "  The  best  style  of  love  story,  clean, 
pure  and  wholesome." 
AUDREY 

With  the  brilliant  imagination  and  the  splendid 
courage  of  youth,  she  has  stormed  the  very  citadel 
of  adventure.  Indeed  it  would  be  impossible  to 
carry  the  romantic  spirit  any  deeper  into  fiction. — 
Agnes  Rcpplier. 

PRISONERS  OF  HOPE 

Pronounced  by  the  critics  classical,  accurate,  inter 
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larly  even  level  ot  excellence. 

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count  of  real  life  from  one  who  succeeded  in  getting  on  the 
"inside."  More  absorbing  than  a  novel.  A  great  and  vital 
book.  Profusely  illustrated  from  photographs. 

THE  SON  OF  THE  WOLF : 

"  Even  the  most  listless  reader  will  be  stirred  by  t.he  virile 
force,  the  strong,  sweeping  strokes  with  which  the  pictures  of 
the  northern  wilds  and  the  life  therein  are  painted,  and  the  in 
sight  given  into  the  soul  of  the  primitive  of  nature."— Plain 
Dealer,  Cleveland  i 

A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SNOWS: 

It  is  a  book  about  a  woman,  whose  personality  and  plan  in 
the  story  are  likely  to  win  for  her  a  host  of  admirers.  The 
Story  has  the  rapid  movement,  incident  and  romantic  flavor 
which  have  interested  so  many  in  his  tales.  The  illustrations 
are  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

GKOSSET    &    DUNLAP,    PUBLISHEBS 
52  DUANE  STREET  ::  NEW  YORK 


PRINCESS  MARITZA 

A  NOVEL  OF  RAPID  ROMANCE. 

BY  PERCY  BREBNER 
With  Harrison  Fisher  Illustrations  in  Color. 

Offers  more  real  entertainment  and  keen  enjoyment  than 
any  book  since  "  Graustark."  Full  of  picturesque  life  and 
color  and  a  delightful  love-story.  The  scene  of  the  story  is 
Wallaria,  one  of  those  mythical  kingdoms  in  Southern  Europe. 
Maritza  is  the  rightful  heir  to  the  throne,  but  is  kept  away  frotn 
her  own  country.  The  hero  is  a  young  Englishman  of  noble 
family.  It  is  a  pleasing  book  of  fiction.  Large  12  mo.  size. 
Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.  White  coated  wrapper,  with 
Harrison  Fisher  portrait  in  colors.  Price  75  cents,  postpaid. 

Books  by  George  Barr  McCutcheon 

BREWSTER'S  MILLIONS 

MT.  Montgomery  Brewster  is  required  to  spend  a  million 
dollars  in  one  year  in  order  to  inherit  seven  millions.  He  must 
be  absolutely  penniless  at  that  time,  and  yet  have  spent  the 
million  in  a  way  that  will  commend  him  as  fit  to  inherit  the 
larger  sum.  How  he  does  it  forms  the  basis  for  one  of  the 
most  crisp  and  breezy  romances  of  recent  years. 

CASTLE  CRANEYCROW 

The  story  revolves  around  the  abduction  of  a  young  Ameri 
can  woman  and  the  adventures  created  through  her  rescue. 
The  title  is  taken  from  the  name  of  an  old  castle  on  the  Con 
tinent,  the  scene  of  her  imprisonment. 

GRAUSTARK:  A  Story  of  a  Love  Behind  a  Throne. 

This  work  has  been  and  is  to-day  one  of  the  most  popular 
works  of  fiction  of  this  decade.  The  meeting  of  the  Princess 
of  Graustark  with  the  hero,  while  travelling  incognito  in  this 
country,  his  efforts  to  find  her,  his  success,  the  defeat  of  con 
spiracies  to  dethrone  her,  and  their  happy  marriage,  provide 
entertainment  which  every  type  of  reader  will  enjoy. 

THE  SHERRODS.  With  illustrations  by  C.  D.Williams 
A  novel  quite  unlike  Mr.  McCutcheon's  previous  works  in 
the  field  of  romantic  fiction  and  yet  possessing  the  charm  in 
separable  from  anything  he  writes.  The  scene  is  laid  in  In 
diana  and  the  theme  is  best  described  in  the  words,  "  Whom 
God  hath  joined,  let  no  man  put  asunder." 

Each  volume  handsomely  bound  in  cloth.  Large  izmo.  size. 
Price  71;  cents  per  volume,  postpaid. 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP,     PUBLISHERS 
-2  DUANE  STREET  ::  NEW  YORK 


FAMOUS  COPYRIGHT   BOOKS 
IN    POPULAR   PRICED    EDITIONS 

Re-issues  of  the  greatliterary  successes  of  the  time.  Library 
size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with  illustra 
tions  of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

BEVERLY  OF  GRAUSTARK.  By  George  Barr  McCut- 
cheon.  With  Color  Frontispiece  and  other  illustrations 
by  Harrison  Fisher.  Beautiful  inlay  picture  in  colors  of 
Beverly  on  the  cover. 

"  The  most  fascinating,  engrossing  and  picturesque  of  the  season's 
novels." — Boston  Herald.  "'Beverly'  is  altogether  charming — al 
most  living  flesh  and  blood." — Louisville  Times.  "  Better  than 
'  Graustark  '." — Afail  and  Express.  "  A  sequel  quite  as  impossible 
as  '  Graustark  '  and  quite  as  entertaining." — Bookman.  "  A  charm 
ing  love  story  well  told.."— Boston  Transcript, 

HALF  A  ROGUE.    By  Harold  MacGrath.      With  illustra 
tions  and  inlay  cover  picture  by  Harrison  Fisher. 
"  Here  are  dexterity  of  plot,  glancing  play  at  witty  talk,  characters 
really  human  and  humanly  real,  spirit  and  gladness,  freshness  and 
quick  movement.     '  Half  a  Rogue  '  is  as  brisk  as  a  horseback  ride  on 
a  glorious  morning.    It  is  as  varied  as  an  April  day.    It  is  as  charming 
as  two  most  charming  girls  can  make  it.      Love  and  honor  and  suc 
cess  and  all  the  great  things  worth  fighting  for  and  living  for  the  in 
volved  in  '  Half  a  Rogue.'  "— Phila.  Press. 

THE  GIRL  FROM  TIM'S   PLACE.      By   Charles   Clark 

Munn.  With  illustrations  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
"  Figuring  in  the  pages  of  this  story  there  are  several  strong  char 
acters.  Typical  New  England  folk  and  an  especially  sturdy  one,  old 
Cy  Walker,  through  whose  instrumentality  Chip  comes  to  happiness 
and  fortune.  There  is  a  chain  of  comedy,  tragedy,  pathos  and  love, 
which  makes  a  dramatic  story."—  Boston  Herald. 

i  HE  LION  AND  THE  MOUSE.    A  story  of  American  Life. 
By  Charles  Klein,  and  Arthur  Hornblow.      With  illustra 
tions  by  Stuart  Travis,  and  Scenes  from  the  Play. 
The  novel  duplicated  the  success  of  the  play;  in  fact  the  book  is 
greater  than  the  play.    A  portentous  clash  of  dominant  personalties 
that  form  the  essence  of  the  play  are  necessarily  touched  upon  but 
briefly  in  the  short  space  of  four  acts.      All  this  is  narrated  in  the 
novel  with  a  wealth  of  fascinating  and  absorbing  detail,  making  it  one 
of  the  most  powerfully  written  and  exciting  works  of  fiction  given  to 
the  world  hi  years. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  -  NEW  YORK 


FAMOUS  COPYRIGHT  BOOKS 
IN    POPULAR    PRICED  EDITIONS 

Re-issues  of  the  great  literary  successes  of  the  time.  Library 
size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with  illustra 
tions  of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

BARBARA    WINSLOW,    REBEL.      By   Elizabeth  Ellis. 

With  illustrations  by  John  Rae,  and  colored  inlay  cover. 
The  following,  taken  from  story,  will  best  describe  the  heroine : 
A  TOAST:  "  To  the  bravest  comrade  in  misfortune,  the  sweetest 
companion  in  peace  and  at  all  times  the  most  courageous  of  women." 
— Barbara  Winslcnv.  "  A  romantic  story,  buoyant,  eventful,  and  in 
matters  of  love  exactly  what.the  heart  _could  desire." — New  York  Sun. 

SUSAN.    By  Ernest  Oldmeadow.    "With  a  color  frontispiece 

by  Frank  Haviland.  Medalion  in  color  on  front  cover. 
Lora  Ruddington  falls  helplessly  in  love  with  Miss  Langley,  whom 
be  sees  in  one  of  her  walks  accompanied  by  her  maid,  Susan. 
Through  a  misapprehension  of  personalities  his  lordship  addresses 
a  love  missive  to  the  maid.  Susan  accepts  in  perfect  good  faith, 
and  an  epistolary  love-making  goes  on  till  they  are  disillusioned.  It 
naturally  makes  a  droll  and  delightful  little  comedy ;  and  is  a  story 
that  is  particularly  clever  in  the  telling. 

WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE.    By  Jean  Web 
ster.     With  illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 
"The  book  is  a  treasure." — Chicago  Daily    News.       "Bright, 
whimsical,  and  thoroughly  entertaining. " — Buffalo  Express.    "  One 
of  the  best  stories  of  life  in  a  girl's  college  that  has  ever  been  writ 
ten." — N,  Y.  Press.    "  To  any  woman  who  has  enjoyed  the  pleasures 
of  a  college  life  this  book  cannot  fail  to  bring  back  many  sweet  recol 
lections  ;  and  to  those  who  have  not  been  to  college  the  wit,  lightness, 
and  charm  of  Patty  are  sure  to  be  no  less  delightful.  "~Public  Opinion. 

THE  MASQUERADER.      By  Katharine  Cecil  Thurston. 
With  illustrations  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 

"  You  can't  drop  it  till  you  have  turned  the  last  page." — Cleveland 
Leader.  "  Its  very  audacity  of  motive,  of  execution,  of  solution,  al 
most  takes  one's  breath  away.  The  boldness  of  its  denouement 
is  sublime." — Boston  Transcript.  "  The  literary  hit  of  a  generation. 
The  best  of  it  is  the  story  deserves  all  its  success.  A  masterly  story." 
— St.  Louis  Dispatch.  "  The  story  is  ingeniously  told,  and  cleverly 
constructed." — The  Dial. 

THE  GAMBLER.    By   Katherine  Cecil  Thurston.     With 

illustrations  by  John  Campbell. 

"  Tells  of  a  high  strung  young  Irish  woman  who  has  a  passion  for 
gambling,  inherited  from  a  long  line  of  sporting  ancestors.  She  has 
a  high  sense  of  honor,  too,  and  that  causes  complications.  She  is  a 
very  human,  lovable  character,  and  love  saves  ner." — N.  Y.  Times. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,      -      NEW  YORK 


FAMOUS  COPYRIGHT  BOOKS 
IN    POPULAR   PRICED   EDITIONS 

Re-issues  of  the  great  literary  successes  of  the  time.  Library 
size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with  illustra 
tions  of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

THE  AFFAIR  AT  THE  INN.    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 

With  illustrations  by  Martin  Justice. 

"  As  superlatively  clever  in  the  writing  as  it  is  entertaining  in  the 
reading.  It  is  actual  comedy  of  the  most  artistic  sort,  and  it  is 
handled  with  a  freshness  and  originality  that  is  unquestionably 
novel." — Boston  Transcript.  "  A  feast  of  humor  and  good  cheer, 
yet  subtly  pervaded  by  special  shades  of  feeling,  fancy,  tenderness, 
or  whimsicality.  A  merry  thing  in  prose." — St.  Louis  Democrat. 

ROSE  O'  THE  RIVER.    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin.    With 

illustrations  by  George  Wright. 

"  '  Rose  o'  the  River,'  a  charming  bit  of  sentiment,  gracefully 
written  and  deftly  touched  with  a  gentle  humor.  It  is  a  dainty  book 
— daintily  illustrated." — New  York  Tribune.  "A  wholesome,  bright, 
refreshing  story,  an  ideal  book  to  give  a  young  girl." — Chicago 
Record-Herald.  "  An  idyllic  story,  replete  with  pathos  and  inimita 
ble  humor.  As  story-telling  it  is  perfection,  and  as  portrait-painting 
it  is  true  to  the  life.  —  London  Mail. 

TILLIE :    A  Mennonite  Maid.    By  Helen  R.  Martin.    With 

illustrations  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

The  little  "  Mennonite  Maid  "  who  wanders  through  these  pages 
is  something  quite  new  in  fiction.  Tillie  is  hungry  for  books  and 
beauty  and  love ;  and  she  comes  into  her  inheritance  at  the  end. 
"  Tillie  is  faulty,  sensitive,  big-hearted,  eminently  human,  and  first, 
last  and  always  lovable.  Her  charm  glows  warmly,  the  story  is  well 
handled,  the  characters  skilfully  developed."—  The  Book  Buyer. 

LADY  ROSE'S  DAUGHTER.    By  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 

With  illustrations  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
•'  The  most  marvellous  work  of  its  wonderful  author." — New  York 
World.  "We  touch  regions  and  attain  altitudes  which  it  is  not  given 
to  the  ordinary  novelist  even  to  approach." — London  Times.  "In 
no  other  story  has  Mrs.  Ward  approached  the  brilliancy  and  vivacity 
of  Lady  Rose's  Daughter." — North  American  Review. 

THE  B ANKER'AND  THE  BEAR.  By  Henry  K.  Webster. 
"  An  exciting  and  absorbing  story." — N?w  York  Times.  "Intense 
ly  thrilling  in  parts,  but  an  unusually  good  story  all  through.  There 
is  a  love  affair  of  real  charm  and  most  novel  surroundings,  there  is  a 
run  on  the  bank  which  is  almost  worth  a  year's  growth,  and  there  is 
all  manner  of  exhilarating  men  and  deeds  which  should  bring  the 
book  into  high  and  permanent  favor." — Chicago  Evening  Post. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  -  NEW  YORK 


NATURE      BOOKS 

With  Colored  Plates,  and  Photographs  from  Life. 


BIRD  NEIGHBORS.  An  Introductory  Acquaint 
ance  with  1 50  Birds  Commonly  Found  in  the  Woods, 
Fields  and  Gardens  About  Our  Homes.  By  Neltje 
Blanchan.  With  an  Introduction  by  John  Burroughs, 
and  many  plates  of  birds  in  natural  colors.  Large 
Quarto,  size  7^x10^3,  Cloth.  Formerly  published 
at  $2.00.  Our  special  price,  $1.00. 

As  an  aid  to  the  elementary  study  of  bird  life  nothing  has  ever  been 
published  more  satisfactory  than  this  most  successful  of  Nature 
Books.  This  book  makes  the  identification  of  our  birds  simple  and 
positive,  even  to  the  uninitiated,  through  certain  unique  features. 

I.  All  the  birds  are  grouped  according  to  color,  in  the  belief  that  a 
bird's  coloring  is  the  first  and  often  the  only  characteristic  noticed. 

II.  By  another  classification,  the  birds  are  grouped  according  to  their 
season.    III.  All  the  popular  names  by  which  a  bird  is  known  are 
given  both  in  the  descriptions  and  the  index.    The  colored  plates 
are  the  most  beautiful  and  accurate  ever  given  in  a  moderate-priced 
and  popular  book.     The  most  successful  and  widely  sold  Nature 
Book  yet  published. 

BIRDS  THAT  HUNT  AND  ARE  HUNTED.  Life 
Histories  of  1 70  Birds  of  Prey,  Game  Birds  and  Water- 
Fowls.  By  Neltje  Blanchan.  With  Introduction  by 
G.  O.  Shields  (Coquina).  24  photographic  illustra 
tions  in  color.  Large  Quarto,  size  7 ^xio 0.  Form 
erly  published  at  $2.00.  Our  special  price,  $1.00. 

No  work  of  its  class  has  ever  been  issued  that  contains  so  much 
valuable  information,  presented  with  such  felicity  and  charm.  The 
colored  plates  are  true  to  nature.  By  their  aid  alone  any  bird  illus 
trated  may  be  readily  identified.  Sportsmen  will  especially  relish 
the  twenty-four  color  plates  which  show  the  more  important  birds  in 
characteristic  poses.  They  are  probably  the  most  valuable  and 
artistic  pictures  of  the  kind  available  to-day. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  NEW  YORK 


NATURE      BOOKS 

With  Colored  Plates,  and  Photographs  from  Life. 


NATURE'S  GARDEN.  An  Aid  to  Knowledge  of 
Our  Wild  Flowers  and  Their  Insect  Visitors.  24  col 
ored  plates,  and  many  other  illustrations  photographed 
directly  from  nature.  Text  by  Neltje  Blanchan. 
Large  Quarto,  size  7 fyxios/a.  Cloth.  Formerly  pub- 
Hshed  at  $3.00  net.  Our  special  price,  $1.25. 

Suberb  color  portraits  of  many  familiar  flowers  in 
their  living  tints,  and  no  less  beautiful  pictures  in 
black  and  white  of  others — each  blossom  photo 
graphed  directly  from  nature — form  an  unrivaled 
series.  By  their  aid  alone  the  novice  can  name  the 
flowers  met  afield. 

Intimate  life-histories  of  over  five  hundred  species 
of  wild  flowers,  written  in  untechnical,  vivid  lan 
guage,  emphasize  the  marvelously  interesting  and 
vital  relationship  existing  between  these  flowers  and 
the  special  insect  to  which  each  is  adapted. 

The  flowers  are  divided  into  five  color  groups,  be 
cause  by  this  arrangement  any  one  with  no  knowl 
edge  of  botany  whatever  can  readily  identify  the 
specimens  met  during  a  walk.  The  various  popular 
names  by  which  each  species  is  known,  its  preferred 
dwelling-place,  months  of  blooming  and  geographical 
distribution  follow  its  description.  Lists  of  berry- 
bearing  and  other  plants  most  conspicuous  after  the 
flowering  season,  of  such  as  grow  together  in  differ 
ent  kinds  of  soil,  and  finally  of  family  groups  ar 
ranged  by  that  method  of  scientific  classification 
adopted  by  the  International  Botanical  Congress 
which  has  now  superseded  all  others,  combine  to 
make  "  Nature's  Garden"  an  indispensable  guide. 

GROSSET  &  DUN  LAP,  -  NEW  YORK 


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